


like a red-hot wire

by wearethewitches



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: Asexual Character, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Boarding School, Burns, Consequences, Culture, F/F, Female Homosexuality, Gossip, I Don't Even Know, LGBTQ Themes, Lullabies, Magic, Magic Mirrors, Magical Artifacts, Newspapers, Oaths & Vows, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Past Relationship(s), Potions, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teaching, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-04-19 13:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14237853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearethewitches/pseuds/wearethewitches
Summary: "Call me Hecate.""Well, Hecate," Julie holds out an outstretched hand in that strange, non-magical way Hecate has seen before and blushed at the sight of, "call me Julie."





	1. Chapter 1

In the winter during Mildred Hubble's second year at Cackle's Academy, Hecate Hardbroom finds her way to said young witch's doorstep. She's dressed in her usual style of floor-length dress, sleeves tight around her arms – but not her elbows – so cauldron flames don't cause her cuffs to catch fire or for dip into some strange potion, except she is trying not to be noticeable in this strange, non-magical world.

Ergo: the colourful scarf.

It's a thirty-year old, faded, dark purple thing that might have belonged to a friend of hers, once and Hecate feels very awkward wearing it, but this errand she is running is _extremely_ important. Mainly, Mildred Hubble's mother has to be informed of certain arrangements which must be taken care of prior to a witch's thirteenth birthday, unless Cackle's Academy wishes to be host to a variety of magical creatures both innocent and malignant.

Knocking on her door, Hecate glances at the snowy white cat staring at her from the other end of the corridor, who has been following her since she entered the property – on _foot_ , Hecate might add. Hecate inwardly dares it to come any closer and force her to use a banishing charm, so as to not get a single white cat hair on her skirt.

" _Just a second!_ " Comes a shout from inside the flat, prompting Hecate to face the door properly, which opens a few moments later.

Julie Hubble is a woman of average height, with a mane of curly blonde hair and a certain eye. As she looks Hecate up and down, the witch feels rather uneasy, to say the least – though perhaps that's because Julie's gaze pauses on Pippa's scarf.

"Miss Hardbroom...I thought I would have been whisked off to Cackle's without my consent if you wanted to see me about whatever Mildred's supposedly done now."

"Well met," Hecate murmurs, coughing slightly, "This is a more...private matter, one I don't think Ada has thought about properly. It's something you would be unable to arrange for Mildred, as a non-magical parent. May I enter?"

"Do you want a cup of tea?" Julie questions as she moves out the way, opening the way into her home. Hecate enters cautiously, not sure what to expect. "Sit down on the sofa. It's comfier than it looks."

"...yes, to the tea. Thank-you for offering, Ms Hubble."

"It's nothing. Rude not to, in the ordinary world." Hecate goes to sit on the sofa as Julie makes tea in the nearby kitchen. Overall, the room is small and not what Hecate expects for a growing witch. _No father has ever been mentioned, nor any siblings,_ Hecate tries to recall even the barest of whispers, but nothing comes to mind. _Perhaps not too small, then, not for two._

"Mildred is turning thirteen in a few short months," Hecate begins.

"On the first of April and she never lets me forget it," Julie immediately replies, otherwise waiting for Hecate to continue.

"...in the witching world, thirteen is a milestone of some proportion. As you have been told prior, witches gain power as they age. Thirteen is a...particularly special number. Mildred's powers will increase dramatically, as all witches' do. The results can be both wonderfully good and dreadfully unpleasant."

"How?" Julie questions, facing her sharply, concern visible. "Will Mildred be okay?"

"Mildred Hubble will be fine," Hecate says, "provided some shielding spells are erected to deal with the...surges. Magical creatures are commonly attracted to such phenomena – both good and bad."

"What kind of creatures?" Julie queries.

"All sorts," Hecate replies, watching Julie make her cup of tea. "Two sugars, no milk, thank-you."

"No problem. But what _kind?_ "

Hecate wonders at it, for a moment, that this woman belongs to a long line of witches who forsook their magic for a Founding Stone; that this woman comes from a family of witches who sacrificed a world for twelve generations to keep a magical black spot from forming; that this woman, who only shows wonder and curiosity at that world which has been denied her, is Mildred Hubble's mother.

"I met a unicorn when I turned thirteen. It saved me from blowing up an entire forest with how much magic was escaping me."

"An _entire_ forest? You're really that powerful?" Julie makes her tea, brings it over and only looks at her in concern. There's no fear there, no jealousy or anger – just _concern_ , concern Hecate recognises from Mildred.

_Her_ _mother's_ _daughter._

"I am a unique case," Hecate says, shifting on the sofa that is indeed as comfortable as Julie claimed. "Though, not _so_ unique. The reason I am here today is about shielding Mildred, yes, but it is also to discuss _why_."

"I thought you just explained that."

"The average witch does just fine inside Cackle's on their thirteenth," Hecate replies quietly, remembering being that young and being so very, extremely scared. "Ethel Hallow has taken to proclaiming she shall be the most powerful second year in the school. I would expect some complaints from Mildred when your daughter finds out she shares her birthday with her nemesis."

Julie immediately shuts her eyes, groaning. "This has to stop. Why hasn't that Hallow girl been expelled yet, anyway?"

"Ada believes in second chances; also, third, fourth and fifth chances. Perhaps sixth. Seven _may_ be breaking her limit," Hecate says, lip twitching as Julie snorts, shaking her head. "Many do not know the true extent of Ethel Hallow's crimes. Only for Ada and for the sake of young Sybil Hallow, do I not go to her home like this and speak to her parents frankly. They would remove her, if they knew."

"Shut up about Hallow's," Julie shakes her head again. "Please. Tell me more about this dreaded thirteenth birthday."

"I believe that I may be able to be of assistance. The week before her birthday, I would bring her to my office and summon you, if you wish it, so we both might explain. I would cast protective enchantments around her – wards, if I believed them to be the better option. I'll know better closer to the time."

"Wards?" Julie grimaces, sipping her tea. "Right, this is slipping into some strange territory, now. You'll have to explain wards to me, before I go around giving you permission to bamboozle my daughter."

Hecate sneers slightly, "I would not _bamboozle_ your daughter, Ms Hubble...this is for her own safety and the safety of her peers."

"All the same, I don't want to be tricked into agreeing something I don't know the basic ins and outs of, please." Julie is steadfast in the face of Hecate's silence. She sips her tea as she waits for an answer, watching her without judgement.

Eventually, Hecate sips her own tea, surprisingly pleased to find it perfect – just the way she likes it.

"It will take you learning the basics of magical theory to understand even the smallest amount of what wards are," she says, watching a blinding smile appear on Julie's face behind her mug, so like her daughter it's funny. A smile tugging at her lips, Hecate tilts her head, "If I taught you such, would that be ample reassurance?"

"That'd be brilliant, Miss Hardbroom."

"Call me Hecate."

"Well, _Hecate,_ " Julie holds out an outstretched hand in that strange, non-magical way Hecate has seen before and blushed at the sight of, "call me Julie."

"Julie," Hecate greets, taking her hand gently. Julie shakes and doesn't seem to feel the magic between them, binding them to their agreement, taking her hand back with friendly ease as she leans sideways into the sofa, bringing up her legs under her knees.

"So, where do we start?"

Hecate sips her – very perfect, very pleasant – tea and wonders, where indeed, to start.


	2. Chapter 2

The evening of Julie's first lesson in magical theory, Hecate is running late. 

It is not her fault and nor does it give her satisfaction to be late for their appointment even when she has Julie's own daughter to blame. Hecate taps her desk with a black painted nail, watching Mildred re-sit her test from earlier that day, obviously struggling. She keeps reaching for a pencil-case that isn't there, focused but still, obviously, quite distressed. 

"Miss Hubble..." Hecate draws her attention away from her paper, noticing how the ink is staining her hand. "I am late for something, because you cannot finish your paper in a timely fashion. Tidy up and return tomorrow evening to finish your remaining questions." 

"But Miss Hardbroom, I can do it, I just need another few minutes-" 

"I am already late," Hecate cuts in, "and watching you sit this has been an enlightening experience in itself. I can see you are trying, but you are not fast enough. I will allow for an extension on the deadline for this particular test, to tomorrow evening, when you will _finish_. Do I make myself clear?" 

Mildred obviously has no idea what to feel and Hecate can feel her magic fluctuate, even from across the room. _So very powerful,_ she thinks, ignoring how normal witches wouldn't be able to feel the change in the first place. However, Mildred does pack up, handing forwards her half-done test and clutching her bag as she leaves with a quick, "Bye, Miss Hardbroom." 

Waiting until several seconds after the door has closed, Hecate transfers to Julie Hubble's flat, not expecting to be pinned with a semi-surprised raised eyebrow. 

"You finally decided to show up," Julie greets. "I thought witches were supposed to be punctual." 

"I was overseeing a...detention," Hecate says, deciding not to tell Julie it was her daughter's fault. "The girl in question was taking her time in cleaning cauldrons." 

"Alright, alright – cuppa?" 

"If it is being offered," Hecate agrees, quietly walking to Julie's circular dinner-table, summoning a book she had previously marked in the library. Julie glances at the heavy tome, pausing. 

"This _is_ a crash-course, right?" 

"I freely admit to not knowing what 'crash-course' means," Hecate replies. Julie thinks that over for a moment, before sighing and it is then that Hecate notices the strange, dark blue outfit she is wearing. A time-piece hangs from upside-down from her pocket in a stiff, pale green casing and her hair is pulled back into a tight bun, her fringe escaping on the side her parting is not. Around her neck, dipping into the V of her shirt, is a long necklace, the charm hiding from sight. 

"A crash-course is usually quick, heavy load of learning. I know that the swimming pool has a crash-course of swimming lessons in Easter, meant to teach kids how to swim over two weeks rather than six." 

"I...see," Hecate pauses, sitting down on the slightly rickety chair. "Do you have a way to take notes?" 

"I've got a spare notepad ready and waiting," Julie says, the kettle clicking off. Hecate watches her make tea as she talks. "I thought you weren't going to show when eight went by with no word – thought it a little rude, but you showed up eventually. What did that girl even do to deserve mucking out cauldrons all evening?" 

Hecate finds herself in a sticky position. It would be easy to tell Julie some made-up tale of a misbehaving witch, but specifically, this is Mildred's mother – and who knows, Mildred may even contact her mother and tell her of having to re-sit her potions theory test. Even if Hecate wanted to spare the girl some embarrassment, it might be out of her hands. Deciding to come clean before it gets messy, Hecate goes to tell the truth, only for an incoming mirror-call to distract her. Head twisting, she looks at the mirror on the wall over the sofa, Mildred Hubble's face swirling into existence. 

" _Mum, are you there?_ " She questions, before catching sight of Hecate, eyes widening. " _HB?_ " 

"Millie?" Julie comes out of the kitchen, passing Hecate a cup of tea as she goes by. "Hey, sweetheart, how was school today?" 

" _Mum, why is Miss_ _Hardbroom_ _at our flat?_ " Mildred questions in a loud whisper, ignoring her mothers question. Hecate raises an eyebrow, wondering whether she ran straight from her test to the mirror-booth and got lucky that no-one was there. 

"She's a friend," Julie then says, calmly and with no idea as to the shock her words cause to ripple throughout Hecate behind her. Frozen solid, Hecate listens to Julie as she lies to her daughter about why Hecate is in her home. "Teachers aren't just stuck in school, you know. Hecate and I had a date, tonight." 

Mildred looks mortified at the thought. " _A date? Like- like a_ ** _date_** _kind of date?_ " 

Julie rolls her eyes, teasing. "And if it was? You already see her every day, it's not like you don't know each other." 

" _But- but-_ " Mildred stutters, before Julie takes pity on her. 

"No, love, it's not a date-date. Hecate and I are just talking over tea. If I was going to date someone, I'd talk to you first about it, remember what we talked about?" 

" _Yes, mum. Sorry, I just..._ " Mildred blushes, glancing at Hecate before shaking her head. " _I'll mirror tomorrow."_  

"Okay, sweetheart. I've got a shift that ends at five, tomorrow, so don't waste time by calling before dinner." 

" _Okay. Love you, Mum!_ " 

"Love you, too, sweetheart," Julie waves, waiting for Mildred to hang up before she turns to Hecate. "Sorry about that, she tries to call every few days. We don't schedule things unless I know when I'm working." 

"It's none of my business," Hecate says, still a little surprised at being called someone's _friend._ "Would you like to begin?" 

"Sure, take it away, Elphaba," Julie picks up a spiral-bound notebook from the sofa, sitting down beside her. Hecate clears her throat, before opening the book between them. 

"A witch's magic. In the pamphlets you received from Cackle's Academy, there would have been your basic leaflets about young witch's health and the school's policies on how our healing staff deals with accidents and illness, including unhealthy draining of a magical core and unexpected power boosts," Hecate begins, starting off from what she assumes Julie knows. 

"Oh, I read those," Julie says, confirming Hecate's presumptions. 

"Magic from witches is passed down through the female line, magic from wizards through the male," Hecate continues. "Most magical families can trace their roots back to before the time of King Arthur and the Elfwing's even boast about their direct descendance from Mordred himself. With the revelation about your own heritage, you might find that the Hubble Grimoire is laying around somewhere in a library or someone's attic." 

"Is that something I should be looking into?" Julie questions, "For Mildred, I mean?" 

Hecate pauses, "If you did, it would be a significant responsibility – for Mildred, not you. The Grimoire has to be read cover-to-cover by the Head Witch of the family, which would be Mildred. Sometimes, there are things that should not be read by twelve-year old witches." Hecate thinks then of awful, _evil_ spells and potions she knows from reading her family Grimoire at sixteen, of the dark family secrets she keeps locked away inside her mind and all the petty, ridiculous feuds that the Hardbroom's have all around the globe, just because of how many bullies challenged Hecate in school even after finding out her mother died. 

"Oh right, so...maybe later, yeah?" 

"Maybe later," Hecate echoes, before continuing on with her lesson, going on to describe the magical core of a witch and how it lives in their blood, in their skin and in every particle of their body. Julie asks many questions and Hecate forgets to drink her tea as she answers them all. 

It is strange to her that when the evening comes to a close, later, in the early hours of the morning, Hecate doesn't want to leave. 


	3. Chapter 3

"Pippa," Hecate greets. Through her vanity mirror, she can see Pippa is getting ready for bed, as per usual. She's already dressed in a satin button-up pyjama shirt and matching quarter-length trousers, a dark green blanket that she borrowed from Hecate thirty years ago sitting loosely around her shoulders as she brushes through her long, silky hair. Hecate herself is already in her nightgown, prepared for the evening.

" _Hecate, how are you?_ "

"Good. How are you?"

Pippa smiles, " _Fabulous, thank-you for asking. I got that package I was waiting for._ "

"Are you even going to tell me what this package was?" Hecate questions amusedly, genuinely curious. Pippa had been complaining about how long it was taking to come by courier from Japan for the past several weeks.

" _No! It's a surprise!_ " Pippa grins smugly and all of a sudden, Hecate has a funny feeling Pippa is getting her a birthday present. Pursing her lips, Hecate wonders if it's acceptable to exchange a gift that has been hand-delivered from Japan for something that could be mistaken as a gag-gift if not handled correctly.

"If I had something for you, for your birthday-" Hecate decides to ask, watching how Pippa jerks upright, smirking as her hairbrush goes flying off to the side. "Do you want to go fetch that?"

Pippa pouts, summoning it to hand. " _Do you have a present for me, Hiccup?_ "

"I do," Hecate says brazenly. "How would you like it delivered?"

" _Hmm...how about_ _in person?_ " Pippa grins. " _Pentangle's is having a showcase for my fiftieth, inspired by an article on_ The Daily Bubble _about Miss Cackle's birthday extravaganza_."

Hecate abruptly feels horrified. "Oh no."

Pippa giggles, " _Mildred's impersonation of you was spot-on, I have to say._ " Hecate groans, hiding her face in her hands. " _But_ _there_ _was something even more juicy that got posted last night. Felicity Foxglove really is a star reporter if she can sniff out when you're courting someone._ "

Hecate startles, "I'm what?"

Another giggle. Hecate watches Pippa takes out her maglet. " _I saved the article to my favourites – it made me laugh._ " She pauses, obviously finding the article, clearing her throat, " _'HB: Love in the air? Reporters at Cackle's_ _Academy have recently discovered that our esteemed potions mistress, Hecate_ _Hardbroom_ _, turning fifty-one this upcoming February and twice-recipient of the Potions Witch of the Year Award, has recently begun a relationship! Previously thought to been struggling for thirty years with a bad break-up from Pippa Pentangle, Headmistress of Pentangle's Co-Ed Academy of Magic – see: 'The_ _PentBroom_ _Conspiracy' for more information –_ _Hardbroom_ _is now confirmed to be courting the Ordinary woman, Doctor Julie Hubble, MD!'_ "

"I am _not_ courting Julie," Hecate replies, appalled. Pippa, half-shrieking with laughter, abruptly quiets, looking at Hecate through the mirror with wide eyes. "I am not courting anyone, Pippa."

" _But you called her_ ** _Julie_** _, Hiccup,_ " Pippa stares. " _Are you very sure you're not, Hecate? Remember the last time._ "

"You can't hold that against me forever," Hecate defends, "The word 'courting' never came up again after I told you I didn't like...kissing or- or any of that."

" _I'm sorry that I wasn't_ _more clear_ _,_ " Pippa apologises, heartfelt. " _I still love you._ "

"And I love you," Hecate says, remembering how her chest ached a different way it does now, more painfully and stuck in the past. "I'm glad you have Sina, now."

" _So am I,_ " Pippa admits, before smiling again. " _I'd be even gladder if you were courting someone – maybe this Julie Hubble could be that someone._ "

Hecate scoffs, "I've already told you my worries about Mildred's thirteenth. Julie won't allow me to help unless she knows what I'm going to be doing."

" _All the more reason to court her. You get to show yourself off,_ " Pippa teases, putting her brush down to braid her hair gently. " _Do you like her?_ "

"She is...adequate, I suppose. She cares about her daughter much more than other parents I could name."

" _That's not what I asked, Hecate._ "

"I'm aware," Hecate replies, looking upwards sharply as she feels her wards being set off. "I have to go. There's a witch out of bed."

" _This conversation isn't finished, Hiccup,_ " Pippa warns good-naturedly, before the connection ends and Hecate transfers to the corridor in questions. Somehow, she isn't surprised to see Mildred peering around a corner, frowning.

"Mildred Hubble," Hecate snaps, the young witch twisting around in surprise, "What are you doing out of bed?"

"I- I heard crying," Mildred says, pulling herself together as she looks at Hecate defiantly. "I was going to go see what was wrong."

Hecate narrows her eyes, but as she looks in the direction Mildred was heading, she hears it too – crying, distorted and obviously coming from behind a failing silence ward. Gently, she searches with her magic, aware that getting into contact with another witch's magic could mean waking them from slumber. Very quickly, she finds the flickering silence ward around Jasmine Henbane's room and internally sighs.

_Felicity Foxglove may be the student's local gossip-monger, but she doesn't know everything._ Hecate and Ada are both aware of Esmerelda Hallow's preferences, the sort that Ursula Hallow is well-known for disapproving of and quite honestly, Hecate was rooting for Esme and Jasmine long before she caught them kissing in her classroom after hours.

"I will deal with this," Hecate says, looking back to Mildred. "Go back to bed, Miss Hubble."

"But-"

Before she can get any further, Hecate transfers her back into her bed, walking silently to Miss Henbane's room, wondering whether or not Pippa has to deal with as troublesome witches and wizards as Mildred Hubble.


	4. Chapter 4

In the morning, Hecate is pleased to see Esme and Jasmine sitting together, hands linked. What she is _not_ pleased about it Felicity Foxglove walking up to her, maglet in hand, a wide smile on her face.

"Good morning, Miss Hardbroom! Have you seen how many pointy hats my latest article got?"

"It was quoted at me," Hecate replies, narrowing her eyes. "You will take it down, Miss Foxglove. Nothing in that article is true."

"I overheard Mildred talking about it," Felicity replies, very obviously trying to redirect the blame.

"Mildred Hubble interrupted a simple conversation I was having with her mother about the origin of magic," Hecate says slowly, "and when she misinterpreted the meeting itself, she was corrected immediately. I very much doubt Mildred Hubble would deliberately spread a rumour that I was courting her mother."

As she speaks, Hecate watches Felicity lose her smile and confidence, clutching her maglet in nervousness.

"You will remove the article, Miss Foxglove, or have your entire gossip column taken down," Hecate explains. "If the latter has to happen, your parents will be contacted. I do not appreciate being the laughing stock of the witching world and I do not believe Mildred does either."

"Sorry, Miss Hardbroom," Felicity mumbles. "I'll take it down."

"Very well," Hecate looks away from her, finishing her breakfast. Once Felicity has walked off, looking quite despondent, Ada whispers to her.

"A tad harsh, Hecate."

"Pippa thought it was funny, up until we talked about it and decided that I _did_ need to begin courting Julie," Hecate mutters.

Ada raises an eyebrow. " _Julie?_ "

Hecate growls slightly, knowing where this is going. "I call you by your first name, does that mean I should court you, Ada? Julie is my friend."

"Except..." Ada trails off, lip twitching, "the article wasn't _all_ wrong, was it? I'm privy to the true details of the PentBroom Conspiracy, you know. You were the one to tell me in the first place."

"Something I am now regretting," Hecate groans as Dimity Drill jogs up, having most likely finished her morning run.

"What was that about a Pentbroom? Never heard of that model before," she says _very loudly._ Immediately, some few dozen of the girls start whispering, Dimity raising her eyebrows. "Okay..."

"PentBroom is a nickname for the supposed romantic relationship between Pippa Pentangle and Hecate Hardbroom," Ada explains, raising her voice to be heard by the students. "As such, it is highly inappropriate to talk about. Please respect your teachers, girls and keep the gossip to private corners – _not_ certain mag-net sites."

"Sorry, Miss Cackle," Felicity says.

"It's not me you should apologise to," Ada says, reproachful as she looks at Felicity past her glasses. A few moments later, Ada stops drawing attention to herself purposefully, settling in to finish her porridge.

"Well, I've obviously missed something," Dimity sits, shaking her head.

"Obviously," Hecate snorts.

* * *

"-not that bad!" Mildred Hubble's dulcet tones echo through the corridors and Hecate, interested in what fight she's gotten into this time, makes herself invisible so as to sneak up on her.

"You're only saying that because you have to like her," Ethel Hallow replies, superior as ever. "But as if _Miss_ _Hardbroom_ would ever court _your_ mother." _Oh,_ Hecate stills, stopping by the corner near the stairs, watching Mildred and Ethel face off, Mildred obviously struggling to gather a reply, Ethel continuing with crossed arms. "I can't even decide if I want to believe it. A witch courting a non-magical woman, let alone _Miss_ _Hardbroom_ is unbelievable drama in itself, but if it is true, then she'd become your step-mother, eventually. You'd get treated like you can do no wrong."

"No, I wouldn't," Mildred denies. "Miss Hardbroom hates me!"

"Yeah," Enid Nightshade adds, "Miss Hardbroom wouldn't go easy on Mildred. She's not that good of a witch, yet. Miss Hardbroom is fair."

Ethel sniffs, "That's only one point to my conversation."

"And what _is_ your conversation, Ethel?" Maud Spellbody questions, sneering. "You're just trying to rile up Mildred and get her in trouble!"

"I only asked her what she thought about having a step-mother as her teacher," Ethel says and that's when Hecate thinks, _I have you._

"Well done for awarding yourself detention, Miss Hallow," Hecate reappears, the girls startling as they twist to look at her, the superior attitude in Ethel disappearing in an instance. "I'm sure Miss Drill will enjoy having someone help her clean out the sports cupboard."

"But Miss Hardbroom-" Ethel starts, before Hecate cuts her off.

"Silence. As I said this morning, I do not appreciate this... _publicity_. Do not use me as fodder in your feud with Miss Hubble." Ethel goes to speak and Hecate snaps, "If you try to backchat me _one_ more time on this matter, you'll be serving detention for the rest of the week! Now, get to class – I seem to recall you all should be in Chanting, right now."

"Miss Bat had an emergency appointment with the healer today, Miss Hardbroom," Maud says placably, calmly. "Mr Rowan-Webb told us to spread the word."

Hecate's brow furrows. _What's wrong with Davina?_ "I see. Well, do not loiter. Go to the library, your dormitories or your silly little sitting room underneath the stairs. I do not want to see any of you wandering the halls doing nothing."

"Yes, Miss Hardbroom," come four voices and Miss Hardbroom watches them vacate the area before she transfers back to her classroom, preparing each station for the first years.

 _Let's hope none of them try to dose me with personality changing potion, again,_ Hecate thinks wryly.


	5. Chapter 5

The next evening, Hecate is distracted during her lesson with Julie. She thinks about what Ethel said – about Hecate being a _stepmother._ Last Halloween, barely a full term into the new scholastic year, Hecate had been ready to give up her magic and the magic of twelve generations of witches to reignite the Founding Stone. She knew what she was doing and she knew she'd never have biological children of her own; after all, it wasn't as if the Hardbroom Family would end, anyway, unless her nephew only had girls and so on and so forth. 

Ethel had brought up another way for Hecate to have children, however, one that makes her heart ache all of a sudden. She'd been so very reluctant to court another witch after the misunderstanding with Pippa, so heart-broken and afraid that no-one could love her without sex or physical affection – children had surrounded her, all these years at Cackle's and _yet_...Hecate had never considered it, not until Halloween. Having children of her own had never been a pressing issue in her mind, not even when Ares was born and Artemis named Hecate his emergency guardian should something happen. 

 _Stepmother,_ Hecate thinks, lost in her thoughts. _If I married another witch with children, I could be a stepmother. If I married another witch, we could...adopt. I could have that._  

"Hecate, I know the stains on my table are distracting," Julie gently kicks her leg, "but they're not _that_ distracting. What's on your mind?" 

Hecate blinks a few times, drawing deep breaths. It takes her a moment to reply. "Has Mildred told you about Felicity Foxglove's most recently retracted article?" 

Julie raises her eyebrows, "No – she was pretty nervous though, yesterday. What was it about?" 

"...me," Hecate admits quietly, looking away in embarrassment, focusing on a painting of Mildred's of Cackle's, framed, on the wall. "Also, you." 

"Me? _I_ came up in an article about you?" 

"You would," Hecate rolls her eyes, glancing back at the woman, "seeing as Felicity has spread the rumour that we are courting. Half the witching world thinks it's true." 

Julie's eyes widen. "Courting? Like- like _dating?_ Oh, but I _told_ Mildred we weren't – I'm so sorry," Julie winces, but Hecate shakes her head. 

"For once, the blame is only partly on your daughter. She was having an innocent conversation with her friends, probably sharing how...weird, it was to see me in your home. Miss Foxglove was eavesdropping and like every buddying gossip columnist, exaggerated events." 

Julie blows air up, moving a strand of hair out of her eye. "Did she at least get my name right?" 

"Doctor Julie Hubble, MD," Hecate remembers. "Unlike I, no mention of your age came up." 

"Thank god," Julie jokes, eying her, "How old _are_ you?" 

"Fifty-one, nearly." 

"Forty-seven." The two eye each other, before Julie comments, "If I had magic, we could have seen each other in school." 

"If you attended Amulet's Academy, I would be worried for your self-esteem," Hecate replies honestly, frowning as she thinks it over more thoroughly. At Cackle's, Mildred got flack for her lack of knowledge of the witching world, her non-magic family being pin-pointed as the reason. If Julie had gone to Amulet's in the same such circumstances, she would have been treated far more brutally – Amulet's might have been a school that put out extremely powerful witches, Pippa and Hecate as examples, but it was far from kind. 

"You didn't go to Cackle's?" Julie questions. 

"No, I did not, though in retrospect I would have enjoyed it far better than Amulet's. I've already gotten over never having attended, however." Hecate replies, telling the truth. "What... _ordinary_ school did you go to?" 

"Saint Joseph's, right here in town," Julie answers easily. "I went to the University of Nottingham, when I graduated. Are there witch universities?" 

"There are and they have always gone through various stages of popularity. Weirdsister Academy for Post-Witchery Education is based in Oxford and quite famous, compared to others," Hecate informs. "I apprenticed under the most terrifying potions mistress in the country, rather than attending, even though I was given a place." 

"The system isn't so different in the ordinary world," Julie leans back in her chair, contemplating. "What do witches do, career-wise?" 

"Anything they wish." Hecate likewise leans back, allowing herself the laps in decorum. "Though, it may interest you to know that the lower-tier jobs that some ordinary people take – such as janitors, rubbish-collectors and cleaners – are unnecessary additions in the witching world. If one is a proper witch, they do these things themselves." Recalling Julie's own career, she adds, "Similarly, witch healers rarely specialise in medicinal practices, often trading in potions for other goods." 

"So, witches are by-and-large, independent? What if they need help?" 

"Witches have covens," Hecate shrugs lightly. "Circles of friends and likewise. Criminals are usually apprehended by those they are offending, judgement dealt by the Great Wizard." 

"Not the Great Witch?" 

"As witches and wizards are so...intertwined," Hecate says slowly, "it was decreed that there would be a back and forth, of so. When the Great Wizard dies, he shall hand his duties to a witch of his choosing. When the next Great Witch dies, she shall hand her duties to a wizard." 

"Well," Julie murmurs, "that's one way to get equality." There is a long moment of quiet, the woman and the witch both mulling on their thoughts, before Hecate catches sight of Julie's abandoned notes on the table. Clearing her throat, she motions to them and admirably, Julie quips, "Yes, we'd better get back to that now you've stopped daydreaming." 

Hecate gives her a scornful glance, scoffing to herself, " _Daydreaming_. I was _not_ daydreaming." _No, Hecate, you were contemplating getting married and having children far, far too late._ "You have little over a month until Mildred's birthday. Did you read the chapter I indicated of the book you are currently in possession of?" 

"Yep, though I have a few questions." 

"Ask them." 

Julie rolls her eyes, flipping through her notebook, "Bossy. Like I said when we first met, _Miss_ _Hardbroom_ , you could stand to learn some manners." 

"Well, _Mistress Hubble_ , perhaps you could learn some tact," Hecate replies tartly, eyeing the woman carefully. "Before...before you ask your questions, however, I have one of my own." 

"Yes?" Julie looks up, bright blue eyes boring into Hecate's. 

Hecate nearly doesn't even speak, but then she draws up her courage – shoulders rising with it – and she asks. "Did you mean it when you told Mildred that we were...friends?" 

Julie's brow furrows slightly and then it's like she's cataloguing everything about Hecate – how tense her muscles are, how she doesn't blink even as she stares, terrified, at the ordinary woman in front of her. Hecate grips her watch tightly, hoping it doesn't break, even though she knows that with how she repaired it while Pippa watched on, weaving spell upon spell into the cogs Hecate handled with delicate trails of magic, the watch is the most durable thing she owns. 

"I think we are. Correct me if I'm wrong." 

Hecate breathes out sharply, so fast her lungs hurt from it. _Friends._ Hecate has been alone for so many years, with only Ada and the other staff for company, when she isn't visiting her sister or her mother. _Artemis is far from my friend,_ Hecate thinks belatedly as she gives Julie a trembling smile. 

"I...I would like to be friends, if that isn't against your interests." 

Julie beams at her, then. "Brilliant. Always good to have more friends about. You should come to lunch with me, one day – I usually go to my mum's café on main street on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, when I can manage it. Hubble-Bubble Tearoom." 

"Perhaps," Hecate allows, already wondering how it would work – how she would tell Ada she wouldn't be available Tuesday and Wednesday at lunch hour, where the Tearoom is so she can transfer to the nearest camera-less area and whether she could stomach spending more than a few minutes in an unfamiliar place. 

"I'll give you a heads up, if you want to come – you could even meet me here and we could walk," Julie offers, Hecate nodding after a moment. _Question two eliminated._ "Mum'll like seeing you, she's been very interested in all of Mildred's school stuff. She's even been looking through all the Hubble Heirlooms, trying to guess if they're magic." 

"She wouldn't be able to tell," Hecate says in only a slightly apologetic manner, far from at ease at yet another ordinary woman knowing about the witching world. 

"She might be," Julie shrugs a little, going back to flipping through her notebook. "Can witches tell when people in their families are born?" 

Perplexed at the subject change, Hecate frowns, "We can. I remember when my sister and nephew were born." 

"Yes, well," Julie finds her page, lip twitching slightly at the long list of questions, "I remember when my sister was born and my niece, as well. My mum and Moe were sitting in the waiting room while I was in surgery and apparently they just... _looked_ at each other, because they knew. Magic must not have left us completely." 

Surprised at her words, Hecate thinks it over, marvelling at the fact and immediately coming up with theories. "Witches are born with magic in their blood and as cursed as your family was, until Mildred, perhaps you were still witches – your powers taken from you at birth. The Founding Stone might have been powerful enough to take it from you all at once, from generations ago, but I highly doubt it. It would have taken its due one by one." 

"Mum _did_ find something interesting, actually," Julie says, getting up and going over to the bookcase behind Hecate's chair, pulling a plastic box off the top shelf and placing it down gently on the spare dining chair. Hecate peers, leaning slightly and reaching out, surprised at the faint whiff of magic. It's practically nothing, but it's there. 

Julie pauses as she begins to take the lid off the box, glancing at Hecate, "Well – two things." 


	6. Chapter 6

Inside the box is folded pale blue velvet, silver thread ancient and new, all at the same time. That whiff of magic Hecate had sensed all of a sudden isn't a whiff – it's heady and old, dormant. Hecate reaches for it, a stray thought causing her to still before she picks up the fabric.

_Is this a Cloak?_

"...may I?" Hecate questions, hoping her simple etiquette is enough even for this sleeping relic.

"Of course," Julie encourages, reaching underneath it to pull out a small tetrahedron made of a pale white wood. Like the velvet, the item has a soft undertone of magic but unlike the fabric, it's faded to a point where Hecate doubts it – whatever _it_ is – would work. "What's the robe?"

Hecate turns her gaze on the fabric, picking it up and feeling the magic kick into action. _Definitely a Cloak,_ she swallows, eyes widening as she spreads it out. The Cloak is an older style than Hecate has seen, more similar to the Cackle Cloak than the Hardbroom Cloak, with a high collar and reaching to the ground, the silver embroidery bordering the edges except for below the collar – instead, decorating the collar with similar, but different type.

It takes Hecate an embarrassingly long few moments as she inspects it to realise the collar is decorative, compared to the embroidery around the edges, which is chockablock with runes and protective sigils. Laying it out on the table so she can see the empty back, Hecate narrows her eyes.

"What is it?" Julie questions, sounding troubled.

"This is a Wedding Cloak, passed down from Hubble witch to Hubble witch forever how long your Family has existed. Even without magic, you've all kept it, a more significant argument in my theory that you have been magic-less witches the entire time."

"A _Wedding_ Cloak?" Julie raises an eyebrow, "Is this like in 'Game of Thrones'?"

"I have no idea what this 'Game of Thrones' is," Hecate mutters in reply, before placing her hand on the middle of the blank back, reaching deep down into the slowly-waking, but exuberant Cloak. _It feels like Mildred,_ Hecate thinks with some exasperation. She feels the deep magic inside it, but right before she can approach it properly, it lashes out at her, categorising her as a foreign witch – an attacker. Hecate hisses in pain, drawing back her hand as it steams, burnt.

"Oh my _god_ ," Julie drags her to her feet, taking her to the kitchen to run her hand underwater. Hecate, more shocked at Julie's sudden action than the burn, stands still, letting Julie inspect her hand under the kitchen light, through the cold water. "This is at least second degree – what even happened?"

"...Cloak's have defence mechanisms, mostly to ensure no-one can tamper with them to add or remove Family members. Even banished Family can marry under their Family Cloak – it's one of the few reasons that banished Family and current Family ever meet, including their subsequent branches," Hecate explains softly. "You'll find that in the witching world, main branches, secondary branches and suchlike-" _bastard branches,_ she thinks in the privacy of her own head "-are set in a certain hierarchy."

"Why did my Family Cloak attack you?" Julie questions hotly.

"Because I am not a Hubble," Hecate says, wryly wondering what would have happened if the Cloak had been aware of the latest gossip. Lip twitching at her own little inwards joke, Hecate watches Julie pause and go a little red.

"...right. Of course. Makes...perfect sense." Julie looks back at her hand, pursing her lips. "Can you heal this with magic?"

"Cloak Magic is irreversible," Hecate states, looking at her hand in regret. "This will have to heal...naturally."

"Right. I can do something to help, then," Julie says, letting go of her hand to dry her own with a nearby tea-towel. "Keep it under while I get my burn kit."

Hecate does as she's told, keeping quiet and doing as instructed when Julie returns. Julie makes her keep her hand under the tap for another ten more minutes before letting her dry her hand gently with paper towels. Then, having her sit again in her chair, Hecate winces her way through Julie cleaning it, rubber gloves a strange, new sensation on her wrist as Julie holds it in place expertly.

"I think we could forgo a bandage," Julie says, eyeing it carefully and then looking at Hecate with narrowed eyes. "But I bet you're the kind of person who still uses their limbs when they're hurt."

"...perhaps," Hecate says guiltily, looking away, back at the Cloak which Julie had angrily folded over a chair.

"Bandage, then," Julie says and as she prepares one to loosely wrap around Hecate's hand, the witch motions to the velvet.

"It shouldn't be blank. It should have some sort of mural or coat of arms. I was going to see whether it had hidden itself, when it attacked me." There's a long pause as Hecate waits for a reply, but Julie is dedicated to wrapping her hand and fingers properly. "Julie. This was my own foolishness."

"As we previously established, you're my friend – if it's so magic, it should have let you do what you wanted instead of hurting you," Julie mutters darkly.

Flattered by her words, cheeks pinking, Hecate waits until her hand is bandaged to continue the conversation. "You need to give me permission to alter it. Or Mildred does. Either way, only the Hubble Matriarch can."

Julie gives Hecate a curious look, "I thought Mildred had to handle all things witchy – like the Hubble Grimoire."

"Well, she's the only one with active magic," Hecate allows, "but the Cloak would have burned me far earlier if you hadn't said that I could touch it. I imagine, as Mildred is not yet nineteen, you may act as...Regent, for the Cloak. Grimoires are a different branch to Cloaks, despite both things being Family Magic."

"See, this is why I want to learn," Julie shakes her head, "All these things Mildred isn't old enough for, that she doesn't know – I want to learn, but I also _need_ to. Who would have told me all this if you hadn't, already?"

"I imagine Mildred might have asked her friends and teachers...me, or Ada." Hecate replies softly. "You may have been told in turn."

"Via Mildred, which isn't what a parent should do," Julie leans forwards, hugging Hecate gently. "Thank-you for this. I can't show you how much this means."

Stiff, Hecate nods, swallowing as Julie leans back, looking at her curiously again.

"If you don't mind me asking – are you autistic?"

"What is... _autistic?_ " Hecate frowns, watching Julie's eyes widen.

"Right- okay," Julie leans back even more, running a hand through her curly fringe as she looks at Hecate like she doesn't know what to do. "Okay. Might as well have told someone at the school anyway. Mildred was okay with me telling her teachers at Saint Joseph's about her autism when the time came, anyway..."

A little frustrated at Julie's non-answer and pained by her hand, which was less numb now from the cold water, Hecate frowns and glares at her lightly.

"What, Julie, are you talking about? What is... _autism?_ "

"It's classed as a mental disability," Julie says, "which is sort of rubbish. Do you know what I mean when I say 'brain chemistry'?"

"I could guess," Hecate grits her teeth, wondering why Julie would ask if she had a mental disability.

"Okay," Julie says quietly, almost to herself, before speaking louder. "Brain chemistry – in the average ordinary person, there's a certain template. Men and women have different brain chemistry, which can be tracked in transgender people too, actually. Autistic people have drastically different brains. It makes things difficult to process. Mildred was diagnosed when she was in nursery."

"How?" Hecate questions and Julie smiles at her.


	7. Chapter 7

"She just wanted to draw," Julie says. "She didn't want to do anything else. Sometimes, she could be convinced to play dress-up, but over and over, time and time again, it was the _drawing_. She wouldn't _eat_ unless she could draw at the same time – she'd just cry and have meltdowns that could last the entire day, sometimes longer. It was a matter of understanding how to work with her, so she could get things done. It was easier as she got older."

"It sounds like she was just throwing tantrums," Hecate frowns.

Julie looks unusually stern as she speaks, "It wasn't a tantrum. Mildred barely understood what manipulation was when she was _ten_ , let alone four. You're her teacher, haven't you noticed the way she behaves is different from others?"

Hecate struggles to answer, even though her mind – surprisingly – easily draws upon examples. Mildred's study habits are the most colourful of her peers'. Hecate has often caught her drawing out ingredients, drawings that animate themselves when Mildred isn't looking – and when she is looking, she doesn't even seem to realise what she's done. _Maybe she thinks it's in her head,_ Hecate wonders.

"Mildred braids her hair," Julie says, "she'll do it the same way for months. Those two braids she's had since she started Cackle's haven't changed once, that I can think of."

"She did in the showcase," Hecate says, before she can change her mind. Julie looks at her in surprise.

"Millie what, now?"

Hecate grimaces upon realising she'll have to explain. _As if my reputation hasn't gone to the frogs, already._ "She and her...accomplices impersonated teachers. She...pretended to be me. Very well, in fact."

"Good old Millie," Julie laughs a little, "I wished I could see. She could have been an actress, if she wanted to – she's _very_ good at mimicking."

"As I recall," Hecate replies. "Is that part of her..."

"Autism? Yeah. She doesn't do it often, but when she does, she gets it done good and proper. She probably practiced for hours in a mirror to get you down to pat."

For some reason, the visual of Mildred Hubble standing in front of mirror pretending to be her makes Hecate feel embarrassed – the warm kind, like someone had just praised her for something she'd done. It reminds her of when she gets letters from those that had read her latest potions or runes disquisition, but this is stronger by far, even what she felt during and after the showcase.

"I asked you because you're kind of...sensitive. Also, you wear the same design of clothes every time I see you. You're pretty closed up, too."

"I do not know how to reply to your..." _Allegations_ seems too strong a word. "...suspicions."

"Have a think about it," Julie offers, "Or even ask Mildred – privately, mind. It's something she tries to keep quiet, around kids her age."

"Maybe," Hecate says distantly, once again wondering how to make such a thing happen. _Could I invite her to my office without making anyone suspicious...wait, no. That would never work. Even just a rumour could inspire another silly article. A detention could work, provided Mildred can keep her mouth shut._ "What do you do about it?"

"Do about it? Nothing, really, unless your functioning is severely compromised. Systems work, provided the systems work with the person and don't completely block out everything they need. Mildred draws and paints – you should have seen her revision portfolio," Julie stands abruptly, "Just a minute. I think she left her old one at home over the holidays, actually."

"You don't-" Hecate starts, but Julie is already gone. Sighing, Hecate waits, eyes falling on the Hubble Cloak again, before she forces her gaze elsewhere – to the tetrahedron. Curious as to what it might be, Hecate picks it up gently, feeling the magical enchantments, still in place but far from working. _Runes,_ Hecate predicts, using her magic to reach into the small, palm-sized device, tensing as the three-sided artefact opens, a bubble appearing.

For a moment, it's just a bubble – then, it fills with colour and there's an image of a strangely familiar woman, singing to a child on her lap. To Hecate's surprise, the singing rings out softly in the real world.

_'Moon and stars, dark blue night,_

_I am watching you sleep._

_Child of mine you are safe from harm,_

_Mama's here in your slumber, deep._

_So,_ _close your eyes, fly away,_

_The Moon is shining so bright._

_Lullaby, stars and night,_

_Sleep, you're safe with me tonight!'_

"That's beautiful," Julie says as the tetrahedron closes. "A lullaby?"

"A lullaby bubble, meant for children when their parents go on long journeys," Hecate replies, before frowning. _Why was that women so familiar?_ Opening it again, she lets the lullaby play out once more, narrowing her eyes as she looks sharply at the women with the child.

"What's wrong?"

"...I believe your daughter- or rather, _Miss Darkside_ , has some explaining to do."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mildred gets a few detentions, Enid has a new plan in the works and what is wrong with Davina Bat?

Mildred Hubble the next morning had no idea of the display which would come at breakfast. As per usual, she gets up at her magic alarm, a spell taught by Maud to wake her up on time. Then – after saying good morning to Tabby – she goes for a short shower in the shared bathroom for her corridor, washing her hair, brushing it and setting it in braids before drying her whole head off with yet another spell taught to her by Maud, much similar to the one HB used on them both when they appeared at Selection Day.

Then, she gets dressed, gathers her bag for the day, including an assignment from Mr Rowan-Webb that _might_ be a day or two overdue. Maud meets her outside Enid's door and they badger her through the wood until she comes out, putting the last touch on her buns.

"I need more time than you guys to do my hair!" Enid complains, "I have a _lot_ of hair, you know?"

"We know," Maud and Mildred say as one, fairly used to it, seeing as Enid says basically the same thing every morning. Together, the trio make their way down to the breakfast hall, only pausing when Enid has to run back to grab her essay – similarly a few days late for Mr Rowan-Webb.

However, Mildred's so far-average morning is interrupted barely seconds after they place their porridge down on the table, HB coming to loom over them all. She places a tiny object on the table which makes something niggle in Mildred's mind.

"Good morning, girls," she says, ominous tone causing many in the hall to glance over, whispering. Out of the corner of her eye, Mildred sees Felicity grabbing her maglet and forces herself not to groan, knowing if it was juicy enough, their little interaction would be _The Daily Bubble_ 's newest story.

"Mildred," HB addresses, voice sugar-sweet and all the more frightening for it, "It so happens that a few magical artefacts survived their time in the hands of twelve generations of non-magical witches. _This..._ " HB points at the pyramid-which-isn't-a-pyramid, because pyramids have four sides, not three, "is a lullaby bubble. Not much, however, the recording of the singer in question was very... _illuminating._ "

Mildred, very confused, chances a glance at Maud and Enid across from her, who both shake their head, both as lost as she is. HB leans forwards, closer to Mildred, very much, quite obviously _furious_.

"I had no idea that the supposed _Miss Darkside_ looked so much like your ancestor, Miss Hubble, but of course, that _must_ be a coincidence."

Almost immediately, Enid swears, HB not even pausing before giving her detention. She still stares at Mildred, who feels like her heart is going to pop out of her chest any second.

"Answer me this, Mildred, truthfully: did you or did you not impersonate your supply teacher?"

Mildred swallows, wincing, shrinking in her seat. "It was an...accident?"

"Detention for the rest of the week," HB stands up straight, eyes flashing. "Your mother also added that your maglet was to be taken, provided you were the culprit."

"But Miss Hardbroom!" Mildred exclaims.

"Not another word, Miss Hubble. My classroom after dinner," HB replies, before looking to Maud and Enid. "Miss Nightshade, you will likewise show up for detention after dinner. As for both you and Miss Spellbody, if I discover you had _any_ involvement in the fake Miss Darkside's appointment, you will both be joining Miss Hubble for at least two of her detentions."

"Yes, Miss Hardbroom," Maud says, swallowing. Enid is quick to copy her, but shrinks like Mildred in her seat. HB, satisfied, immediately walks off, the whispers of their fellow students echoing through the hall.

Enid leans forwards, "At least she didn't know we stole Miss Bat's sock."

"Two more detentions, Miss Nightshade, Miss Spellbody!"

Enid groans, Mildred giving an apologetic smile, "You nearly had it."

"That doesn't make it any easier – three detentions with Miss _Hardbroom_ ," Enid rests her head on the table, words becoming muffled. "I _really_ hope she doesn't make us de-teeth leeches. I _hate_ leeches."

"Don't give her any ideas, Enid," Maud chides tiredly, obviously not very happy with getting detention. "You'll just give us the bad luck of getting them."

Abruptly, Enid shoots up, eyes wide with inspiration. "That's it! We aren't getting lucky today!"

Maud whines, "Enid, no-"

"All we need is..." Enid trails off, grinning at Mildred. Without thinking, Mildred leans forwards.

"Need what?"

Enid whispers, eyes alight with that familiar brassy confidence: "A good luck potion."

* * *

"So, an impersonator?" Ada chuckles. "You know, the girls were quite sad to see her go. They quite enjoyed the fake Miss Darkside's teaching methods."

"Mildred Hubble, a good teacher?" Hecate scoffs, noticing how none of the girls had realised she'd left the lullaby bubble behind. "Maybe compared to Miss Bat." Ada winces, immediately redirecting Hecate's attention to her. Frowning, Hecate scans the small staff table, noticing that neither Davina nor Algernon were sitting in again. "Where is Davina, Ada?"

"I'm afraid Davina will be taking a sabbatical until the spring holiday," Ada says quietly, the news turning Hecate downhearted. The potions mistress struggles to imagine Cackle's Academy without the old crone, barely remembering a time she hasn't been here. "Algernon will be joining her, of course. I'll be telling the girls this afternoon, after classes. A staff meeting will be run for a few minutes during lunch."

"Why?" Hecate asks simply, worried. _Davina and Algernon? That's over a third of the staff, with the absence of Miss Mould._

"You'll find out at lunch – I don't want some poor student to overhear," Ada murmurs. "The matter is, of course, that the temporary replacement will be arriving this evening. I spoke to the Great Wizard about the appointment and he has a new teaching plan for Cackle's, in light of recent events over the past two years."

"New teaching plan- what on Earth do you mean by that, Ada?"

"Lunchtime," Ada says, taking a small moment to smile honestly at Hecate. "It is not as bad as it sounds. I will explain later, I swear it, Hecate." She rests her hand on Hecate's briefly, before turning back to her breakfast.

Hecate, thoughts too jumbled and her heart beating too fast, discards her morning meal, instead standing and transferring to her classroom. She throws herself into preparing for her third years, on overdrive at the thought of Davina being so ill as to take a _sabbatical._

"What's next? Cackle's turns _co-ed?_ "


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enid's good-luck potion has its effects and there are new teachers in Cackle's Academy - some, more familiar faces than others.

The first sign that something is up, is with how Enid Nightshade practically _demands_ to be caught sabotaging Mercury Roseberry’s potion. Hecate awards her another two detentions for her misdemeanour, taking into consideration how Miss Roseberry’s potion blew up and began to dissolve not one, but _four_ other students’ uniforms into uniform-coloured foam.

The second sign is Mildred Hubble and Maud Spellbody staring at their friend in knowing horror as Miss Nightshade groans at the bottom of the staircase, contents of her satchel spilled everywhere and a bruise blooming on her forehead.

“Be more careful, Miss Nightshade,” Hecate waves her hand, depositing the girl’s things back in her bag, head tilting as she spies a rather…unorthodox title on the spine of a book. However, Mildred decides to stand in her line of sight, thanking her profusely as Maud grabs Enid’s arm tightly, to guide her as if she were blind. Hecate watches the three with suspicion, used to their antics and _knowing_ something is going on.

“Enid _did_ have some trouble today,” Dimity shakes her head, eyeing the quartet of witches in the corner of the staff room. “Poor girl flew right into the pond.”

“Very… _unlucky_ ,” Hecate says, eyeing the group herself before looking to Ada as she clears her throat.

“Ladies,” she greets them, nodding to the kitchen staff and the strangers. “As you may have heard, Davina Bat has taken severely ill. I am sorry to say, but she _will_ be on an indefinite hiatus, as will Mr Rowan-Webb.”

“What malady afflicts her?” Hecate questions, brow knitting together in worry for the old crone.

Ada grimaces, “I’m afraid Algernon has asked me to keep that to myself, Hecate. Davina would perhaps tell you herself, if you contacted her personally.”

“Of course,” Hecate swallows, glancing at Dimity, who likewise looks worried over their absent colleague.

“Yes, well,” Ada fiddles with her glasses, motioning the strange witches over. As they step further into view, Hecate looks each and every one of them over.

The most obnoxiously-dressed witch catches Hecate’s eye first and looking her up and down, Hecate is most vividly reminded of Marigold Mould. She wears clearly Ordinary clothes in pale shades of purple, a lavender ribbon tied around her blonde braided bun – which is similar enough in style to Hecate’s that Hecate feels put-out, despite the concrete differences between them both.

“Our new staff,” Ada introduces, “to finally replace Miss Mould as art teacher, I introduce Ms Charmian Nightingale.”

“Well met!” the new art teacher greets, grinning and winking at Dimity, who confusedly smiles back.

“To take Mr Rowan-Webb’s position as spell-science teacher, temporarily, we have Charmian’s better half, Ms Elouise Gimlett.”

Beside Ms Nightingale, an exceedingly short witch – presumably Ms Gimlett, judging by the quiet _well met_ she sketches – peers at them all blankly from behind a pair of large, thick-rimmed spectacles, a red jewel in the centre of a complexly designed tattoo on her forehead catching the light. Hecate can’t quite form as much of an opinion on Ms Gimlett as she can on Ms Nightingale, whose enthusiasm is quite suddenly palpable from across the room as she chuffs her wife gently.

“Come on, Elly, don’t be a scaredy-frog. Not everyone can hear that well, you know.”

Ms Gimlett gives her ‘better half’ a look that absolutely screams _excuse me_ before she speaks – in an exceedingly strong Ayrshire accent. The only reason Hecate understands her is because of one of her unfortunate roommates at Amulet’s when she was young, her skill at understanding what in Morgana’s name she was saying coming in handy in this moment.

“Better than as confident as you are!” She huffs, “And you can talk, your hearing spells are too strong for your own good.”

Ms Nightingale looks about to argue, Ada thankfully cutting in before their bickering can continue.

“Thank-you, Ms Nightingale, Ms Gimlett,” the headmistress nods, looking to the remaining pair of witches. Both look more than witchy enough to Hecate, especially compared to the two previous. The older smiles nervously, waving.

“Well met,” the witch greets, grey-blonde fringe straight over her forehead, almost covering her eyes, which are distinctly mismatched. Hecate straightens.

“Miss Crotchet?”

Lavinia Crotchet smiles wider at the sight of her, “Oh, hello Hecate Hardbroom – it’s been a few years since our last meeting, hasn’t it?”

“You’ve met Miss Crotchet, Hecate?” Ada raises her eyebrows in surprise.

“…we were sat next to each other on occasion, when my mother had functions,” Hecate says quietly, recalling the many, many times they’d sat together and made small talk over the years, whenever Constance Hardbroom hosted her coven’s Yule celebration. It had in fact been over eight years since Hecate had last seen Miss Crotchet. She can remember their first official meeting, when Hecate wasn’t a squalling babe – Hecate had asked about her eyes.

_“A potions accident,” Miss Crotchet said, grinning at her and crouching down so she was on Hecate’s level, whispering like she was sharing a secret. “Your mother is brilliant, but everyone makes mistakes when they’re learning.”_

It had been a formative memory for Hecate, knowing that even her mother was young once – something that hadn’t sunk in when it came to other adults until she was a teenager.

“Excellent,” Ada says, clasping her hands together. “And our last new member of staff, a student from Weirdsister Academy: Miss Gabrielle Pentangle.”

Hecate’s eyes tear themselves away from Miss Crotchet, focusing on the younger Miss Pentangle. She’s just like Pippa was at eighteen, short with a roundness to her cheeks that would disappear with age, long blonde hair sweeping around her shoulders despite the high ponytail. Hecate stares, for a moment, before gathering herself, wondering at this strange chance of fate – that Pippa and Sina’s daughter would come to experience life at Cackle’s.

“And what position will Miss Pentangle be taking?” Hecate questions starkly, noting how Gabrielle Pentangle takes after Sina, her darker bronze skin complimented by the knee-length green dress she wears, the long sleeves tapering at the wrist.

“Administrative assistant,” Gabrielle replies chipperly. “I’ll be helping Miss Cackle with paperwork and suchlike nonsense. Call it experience with an unbiased mentor, for when I take over Pentangle’s from my mother.”

Hecate raises an eyebrow. “So ambitious.”

Gabrielle smirks, “Don’t worry, I _do_ have another motive for coming here. Mum can’t stop talking about you, you know – she _loves_ being in contact with her best friend.”

“Is that a complaint?” Hecate questions, forcing herself not to wince at the accidentally-frosty tone. On queue, Dimity elbows her slightly, giving her a _what was that_ face.

Gabrielle’s enthusiasm dims a little, “No. Not at all. Mum’s a loner…anyway. Nice to meet you.”

“…likewise, Miss Pentangle.”


	10. Chapter 10

Julie is unable to meet with her that evening, called in for an emergency shift at the hospital. Hecate, of course, is overseeing detention for the troublesome three – Mildred Hubble, Enid Nightshade and Maud Spellbody.

“Thank Merlin it wore off,” she hears Enid mutter as they shell out acorns, Hecate marking essays from third years on the properties of Dark ingredients they’d been learning about, recently.

“Never do that again,” Maud hisses, “We were so worried about you!”

“Maud’s right, Enid,” Mildred says, hesitant but heartfelt. “The good luck Potion wasn’t a good idea and you could have gotten hurt – a lot _more_ hurt, I mean.”

 _Ah,_ Hecate thinks, eyeing up the bruise on Enid’s forehead. “I agree,” she says crisply, making Mildred startle. Hecate maintains eye contact for a long moment, brown meeting brown – then she looks to Enid. “Stealing Miss Bat’s sock for a wisdom spell, _failing_ in making a good luck potion…Enid Nightshade, your cauldron privileges are to be revoked for the foreseeable future.”

An appalled expression twists into existence on Enid’s face. “But Miss Hardbroom, how am I meant to practice for class?”

“You will practice here, under supervision from either I or a prefect,” Hecate says, making an executive decision. “Your parents will also be contacted, informing them of this. While I would otherwise applaud experimentation with potions, your usage of them is inappropriate and it cannot go on. Magic is not to be used for selfish or trivial ends, as stated in the Code. Maud Spellbody, Mildred Hubble – similar privileges will be taken from you both if I hear of any more magical mishaps of this ilk.”

“Yes, Miss Hardbroom,” the two girls say in unison, downhearted as they continue to shell acorns. Enid, however, stares at the oak nuts in front of her before slapping them down on the table, rushing out of the room.

“ _Miss Nightshade,_ ” Hecate hisses, standing up. She wants to follow on after her, but instinct tells her this is not the time to be a disciplinarian. Instead, she looks to Mildred and Maud, who hesitate, obviously wanting to follow their friend. “You will continue your detention,” she orders, forcing herself to sit down, reaching for her maglet. As quickly as witchingly possible, she pens a message to Dimity, informing her of Enid’s upset.

Dimity is quick to reply. **_On it. I’ll confine her to her room for the evening after I find her and we chat._**

 ** _Thank-you, my friend._** Hecate sends her reply, happy that her colleague is reliable when it comes to the girl – that she’s responsible, when she isn’t holding holiday parties with the staff and her other friends from her days as a star flying witchball player.

“Miss Hardbroom,” Maud tentatively starts. “Is…is Enid in _big_ trouble?”

Hecate grits her teeth. “Miss Nightshade just walked out on a detention. However, _other_ than that, no. You’re Head of Year Two, Miss Spellbody – you know the Code just as well as your friend. I am also very aware that Miss Nightshade’s recreational activities are intertwined with potioneering – which is why this is a harder lesson for her to learn than it might be for you or Mildred.” Hecate feels herself begin to calm, her heartbeat slowing inside her chest. “Magic is _not_ a have-all. Magic is a tool and a gift. You must respect it and limit yourself, for both your sake and for those around you. What if something terrible had happened today to Enid? Or, what if using the wisdom spell aged you beyond the years you will naturally live, Mildred?”

“What _would_ have happened?” Mildred questions, wary and most likely aware – but Hecate knows she needs it to be spoken aloud, to make it sink into her skull.

“You could have died, Mildred Hubble,” Hecate says, letting the words echo through her mind. _You could have died. What would we have done, then? We would have brought your body to your mother and she wouldn’t have recognised you as her twelve-year old daughter._ “That is why you are taught these things in stages. Recognising danger will become easier for you, but you need education and most of all, _time_. You already face so much trying to catch up with your fellow witches.”

Mildred’s face crumples and now, she looks like she’s on the verge of tears. “I could have _died?_ ” Maud puts a hand on her elbow, ever the loyal companion. Hecate is almost _envious_ of Mildred Hubble for having her. Pippa only became that – only _was_ that – when Hecate was seventeen.

“…you may both be excused,” Hecate says, soft and distant. “Miss Drill will find Enid, don’t worry. Do check on her in the morning, however, if you will.”

“Yes, Miss Hardbroom,” Maud says, the only solid voice in the room as she steers a struggling Mildred away from the desk. Only when they’ve gone out the door, the noise of their shuffling feet disappearing from down the corridor, does Hecate raise her hands, deshelling the acorns and sorting them into jars. However, no sooner does she do this, does a unfamiliar presence transfer into her potions lab – accompanied by Enid Nightshade.

“I thought I’d be interrupting a detention,” Gabrielle Pentangle surveys the room, lip twitching at the sight of shelled acorns. “That was quick.”

“I let them go,” Hecate admits quietly, focussed on the girl that Gabrielle rests her hand upon, emerald nails shimmering and swirling with some kind of magical varnish on her shoulder. “Enid.”

“Sorry for running off, HB,” Enid mutters, looking at her feet and nowhere else.

“Enid,” Hecate says again, more forcefully. “Enid, look at me.” Enid looks up, glaring, sullen. “What were the first two rules of the Witches Code?”

It takes Enid a moment, but then a spark of guilt appears. “Don’t use magic for personal gain and don’t harm other witches.”

“Indeed. You broke those rules with impunity. As I explained to Mildred, that wisdom spell could have killed her. Today, your good luck potion became a bad luck potion – do you know why that was?”

“I don’t know – I brewed it wrong?”

“No,” Hecate says. “The Fosters Effect. You made a good luck potion with true selfish intent and the Fosters Effect turned it inwards. You would have learnt about it next year, when you were already thirteen and experiencing more power surges that would affect your casting. The Fosters Effect is a magical phenomenon that flips the polarity of a spell, usually to the opposite effect of the original intent. The Fosters Effect occurs from selfish use of magic and when there is too _much_ magic – though the latter is still commonly known as _Misgone Magic._ ”

“Oh,” Enid takes her words in and yes, much like Mildred, Hecate thinks it all needed to be said aloud for it to sink into her skull. Gabrielle squeezes her shoulder and Enid glances up at her, briefly, curious and grateful. She looks back to Miss Hardbroom, an honesty clear. “I’m sorry Miss Hardbroom. I shouldn’t have run out of detention and I shouldn’t have been mucking around with advanced spells.”

“Thank-you for your apology. You may leave tonight, but you will be joining Mildred for detention for the rest of the week rather than just the next two evenings. Next time, you will be producing anti-allergy cough syrups for spring season.”

“Sure,” Enid agrees staunchly, looking back to the desk she’d been working at with Mildred and Maud, jaw dropping at the sight of the jarred acorns. “But…but we barely did _any_ of them!”

“It’s a detention. Menial work is a mighty punishment,” Hecate says, lip twitching. “Off with you now. Good night.”

“Good night…” she replies, walking off looking somewhat dazed, only pausing at the door to look back at her. “How did you do it so fast?”

“Magic. Magical ingredient preparation is fourth to fifth year level – do _not_ try it until I teach you,” Hecate glares the girl into submission, though Enid’s cheeky grin as she nods is not _quite_ what she was looking for. Watching her scamper out of the room, Hecate nearly forgets Gabrielle is still there, until she moves – able to blend into the room, not at all like attention-grabbing Pippa.

“You’re too much like your mother,” Hecate briefly complains.

“How?” Gabrielle questions, honestly curious, all dimples and rosy bronze cheeks. “And which one?”

“Both. Sina,” Hecate says. “I’ve not had the pleasure of making _great_ friends with her, but certainly, it’s the reason why you’re similar. Pippa is quite…boisterous, both in appearance and personality.”

“That’s very true,” Gabrielle says, chancing a long look at her nails nervously as she speaks, the way Pippa does when she doesn’t want to make eye-contact. “You- you’ve got a different perspective to everyone else. Loads of people like to see me as a miniature version of my mum, but you- you see me like _Makuahine_ , like Mum.”

“What does that word mean?” Hecate asks, though she could guess. Sina has Hawaiian ancestry – it must be a Hawaiian word.

“Mother. It helps to differentiate when I’m talking about her to other people. Usually I just call her Mama to her face,” Gabrielle shrugs, one arm crossed over her stomach. She peers at Hecate, curious and interested. “Miss Hardbroom, I think you’re a great educator and witch and obviously, with this business with Enid, you’re a good teacher, too.”

“Aren’t educator and teacher lumped into the same category, in this conversation?” Hecate inquires, “Also, you may call me Hecate when there aren’t students around.”

Gabrielle hesitates. “Thank-you for the honour, _Hecate_.” She says her names like she’s tasting it on her tongue, a pleased expression appearing on her face. “And no – educating and teaching are different, in my mind. You can instruct and inform a witch, _educate_ her, but teaching is…it’s different. It’s working with the witch to help them understand what you’re telling her. You’re good at both.”

Hecate sits back somewhat in her chair, still twisted to face the Pentangle. “I see. Thank-you for the…compliment. For someone still in training, you are remarkably perceptive.”

“I know the theory and the psychology,” Gabrielle shrugs lightly. “I don’t have the hands-on experience. Knowledge is worth nothing if you do nothing with it. That’s what I hope to do here. I’ll be taking over the overseeing of Year Four while Miss Bat is away on leave, or until summer. I understand you have guidance over Year Two?”

“Yes,” Hecate’s lip curls slightly at the thought of her year-group. “To be quite honest, I believe Ada had quite the giggle, assigning me to them rather than Miss Gullet.”

“Why not assign them to her?” Gabrielle inquires. “How does your system even work, in any case? I was quite confused.”

“Years One to Four have teachers assigned to them to watch over them here at Cackle’s,” Hecate lectures, “while Year Five and Year Six do not, though every teacher and their former Guidance Teacher is available for them to talk to. Each Head of Year in Year Five is assigned status as a prefect, unless they decline or Ada believes another student would be better-suited to watching over the younger years.  They remain prefects in Year Six, unless, again, another student is more suited to the job or they leave, of course. A Head Girl is assigned from the sixth years.”

“At Pentangle’s, we have prefects in fourth and fifth year – double in fourth, then halved the next year. The Heads have to have been prefects from fourth year and they have their own council of sixth year prefects who each head a club for first to third years, with younger prefects taking part as subordinates. It’s meant to mimic the Magic Council,” Gabrielle says. “Because Pentangle’s is co-ed, we have a Head Witch and a Head Wizard, who share responsibilities. Of course, our guidance teachers are House-based, rather than year-based.”

“House-based,” Hecate says in distant memory, though inwardly she finds the dual Head system Pentangle’s adopts to be slightly distasteful to her witch-orientated mind, even if it _does_ encourage positive witch-wizard relations. “Pentangle’s has inter-house activities.”

“Oh yes,” Gabrielle nods, smiling. “It gets rather competitive, but dorms at Pentangle’s have to have at least one child from every house. Single rooms are given out to fifth years and above – though Pentangle’s is unique in the way that our Head and Prefect System get a floor to themselves in our boarding house.”

Hecate’s eyebrows shoot up. “A floor? As in, _singular?_ I thought co-ed living wouldn’t allow that.”

“I should probably mention that it’s the _sixth_ year Head and Prefect System, they’re all at least seventeen, if not eighteen by the time they move in,” Gabrielle adds, belatedly, before looking at her watch. “Is that the time? I’m going to miss my mirror call from my mothers – sorry, I did get quite distracted. May we continue this conversation another time, Miss Hardbroom?”

“Hecate,” Hecate corrects, before inclining her head. “Another time would be acceptable. Remind Pippa that my package should arrive tomorrow morning and thank her on my behalf for her present.”

“Present?” Gabrielle says, looking for all like Pippa in her sudden excitement. “What did she get you?”

“Nightwear,” Hecate replies in a droll fashion, lip curling at the perturbed expression on Gabrielle’s face. “Mind out of the gutter, Miss Pentangle. Your mother had a very expensive, hand-crafted kimono dressing gown made for me in Japan, of her own design. Despite our long years of distance, she still knows me quite well. Tell her it’s perfect and not to be offended by _my_ gift.”

“What did you get her?” Gabrielle asks, curious.

“That would be telling,” Hecate waves her away, “You said something about a mirror-call?”

“Oh! Yes, thank-you – good evening, Hecate,” Gabrielle says, smiling brightly at her, “and do call me Gabby, when not in front of pupils, of course!”

“Good evening, Gabrielle,” Hecate inclines her head, familiarising herself with Gabrielle’s magic as the witch transfers away hurriedly. She smiles slightly at the feeling – reminded of Pippa both in her disastrous management of time and the way her magic leaves behind a faint trace of colour, green that falls to the ground, dissipating as it goes. It makes sense that she would leave such an effect, especially if she’d seen her mother transferring the same way back and forth with that _ridiculous_ shimmer of pink.

Shaking her head, Hecate sends a message to Dimity, telling her of the resolved situation and then gets back to her marking, eager to read the research of her bright third-year students. _This is the future of witch-kind,_ she thinks fondly, even as she corrects Janice Blight’s spelling and points out the lack of bibliography at the end of Friday Moonshine’s essay.

_I am glad to be a part of it._


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so lol, i've given up on trying to create 1k chapters. expect 2-4k from now on.

“-but I don’t understand, what difference is there between transforming yourself into an animal and _another_ into an animal?”

The frustration is clear in both of them. Hecate reaches for the bottle of gin that Julie had opened hours ago that evening after they finished the wine at dinner, pouring herself a large measure, the last drops dripping into her glass. Drinking it all in one, relishing the feeling of the cool liquid slipping down her throat, Hecate tries to explain the difference for the third time in a row.

“Because the Code says not to harm another witch, but doesn’t say anything about yourself,” Hecate finally tries to put it in another format other than _you transform someone else and not yourself, which is a different branch of magic._ “They might be cousin spells on the magical tree of magical types, but the Code dictates _difference_. Intent can change the entire branch a type of spell comes from!”

There’s a beat of silence, before Julie says, _“Oh._ ” The tone is miraculous, as if she just worked something out and she is so frustratingly like her daughter as she draws it out, other sounds of realisation escaping her mouth. Hecate almost sighs in relief, but decides she’d rather stop Julie making any more of those noises. She reaches out, pressing her finger to Julie’s lips. Julie blinks in surprise.

“Quiet,” Hecate orders, magic hyperactive inside her. It sparks at her fingertips, creating a warmth and a connection, one that escapes her control almost immediately. Julie makes another damn noise, before Hecate feels their minds brush. _Stop,_ Hecate pleads, Julie shuddering before reaching up to take Hecate’s hand.

 _What the hell is this?_ Julie’s mind whispers, surprisingly quiet, even though all her thoughts rush around in the background. Hecate is confused by it – she always is, when she connects with someone. Her thoughts aren’t like that, they aren’t all going at the same time in a haphazard mess. Hecate’s mind is like a wheel – different thought-processes going on at different angles that she can rotate around and pluck from one thread to another.

 _Magic,_ she thinks to Julie, naturally changing the way the connection is setting up out of habit. This is what the coven at the school does every year before the school-year begins, checking the wards and connecting to each other. Hecate feels the way the blood pumps through Julie’s veins, how her heart beats faster as she in turn feels Hecate. Their combined drunkenness is giving her whiplash however, the dual feeling of both of them enough that Hecate sees some sense in disconnecting them.

Feelings implode. Julie shares too much all at once, not knowing how to control anything. Hecate shudders as she moves to block it out, feeling everything Julie feels and vice versa. Julie is happy, curious, _crushed with a pleasurable bubble of feeling in her chest which is wanting._ Hecate is new to her, wanted and Hecate doesn’t know how to understand that right now. This is like Pippa – this is like when she was seventeen and Pippa was sixteen and Hecate felt an influx of unfamiliar emotion that hadn’t occurred to her could exist. That’s what this is now. Hecate hadn’t realised she could have this, that feelings like these could develop from a near-stranger who isn’t a stranger after the past few weeks they’d spent together talking and learning, getting drunk and eating dinner together.

 _I will probably regret ever coming near you when I’m sober,_ Hecate feels the need to inform Julie as she feels that attraction – that omnipresent wanting in Julie’s chest. _I should go._

 _Don’t,_ Julie says, squeezing Hecate’s hand tighter, star-struck. _What is this?_

 _Too much,_ Hecate thinks, the sensations making her head pound. Her magic is burning through the gin, now. It won’t be long before she’s sober – Julie too.

 _What about hangovers?_ Julie answers, before unintentionally slipping into Hecate’s head with the ease of a fully-grown witch. _Ooh, no hangovers for witches? Well, at least that explains why Moe and I never need anything after a night out. What’s elf wine?_

 _I was right,_ Hecate twists her thoughts around, thinking of their other conversations – of magic and the twelve Hubble’s without magic. _The Stone takes it person-by-person. If you can’t get completely drunk, it must be a life-time effect. Your mother?_

 _She can’t get drunk,_ Julie informs her, _no matter how many drinks she has._

 _Your mother would have been the eleventh generation,_ Hecate thinks, _eleven is a magical number. You got your name from her. She’s the eleventh firstborn. More magic. Mildred is the thirteenth. An even more powerful number. You need to find the Hubble Grimoire._

Then, abruptly, Hecate is sober. She sits up from her slight slouch and Julie squeezes her hand again. It’s warm, in her hand, the bandages she’s hidden from sight stiff and making the contact strange. Hecate withdraws her magic slowly, Julie’s sigh of discontent loud, even as the clock chimes for two in the morning.

“My apologies,” Hecate says, knowing she’s just shifted the boundaries of their relationship. Hecate feels like she knows Julie more, now, feeling a closeness she only has with the other teachers. _If she were truly magical, we’d have a coven-bond, now. My drunken mistakes always come back to bite me._

“Don’t…don’t worry about it,” Julie says hesitantly. “That was very strange. Mind reading, feeling… _that_.”

“What did you feel?” Hecate asks.

“…you. Feelings are hard for you – there are so many and they’re so disjointed,” Julie says, startling her somewhat, making Hecate feel off-kilter. “Things are simpler when they don’t get complicated for you, I think. I can imagine it gets very easy for you to slip into one mindset.”

“Too much,” Hecate says quietly, warningly, hearing everything she’s always known. She remembers meeting Mildred Hubble for the first time – going on about the future of witches, on that one-track mind, one of her deepest regrets. _I should have tried harder._

Julie nods. Hecate’s hand is still clasped in her own. Hecate feels a different sort of whiplash, now. Things have gotten personal very fast and yes, _yes_ , this was a mistake. Hecate should never have let herself become so drunk. _I’m lucky I didn’t do anything else with my magic,_ Hecate thinks, remembering with some degree of embarrassment how she re-coloured every piece of clothing Dimity owned bright yellow in a snickering, drunken escapade when she didn’t want to control her magic – when she wanted to _use_ it rather than let it sit inside of her, growing more and more powerful every day she didn’t store it away in Cackle’s. _I was like Eos more than myself, that night._

“Tell me about yourself,” Julie says, after a long few moments of silence. “You know that it’s just me and Mildred, when Moe and my mum aren’t around. Tell me about your family.”

There’s a beat. Then, Hecate draws in a shaky breath. _Keep my secrets,_ she pleads in her mind, _don’t betray me._

“I have six siblings,” she says, “three sisters and three brothers. I am the oldest. I have two mothers – Constance Hardbroom, who died when I was sixteen, leaving me as the Head of the Old Family Hardbroom and Thalia Hardbroom-Demopoulos. My living mother, Thalia, is from Greece and she moved back there when my mother died, taking the majority of my siblings with her. My brothers were adopted and they take the Hardbroom name. One of them lives in Wales. His name is Zephyrus. He went to King Arthur’s Preparatory and was thirteen when our mother died. His twin sister, Eosphorus, went to Amulet’s Academy with me, but she lives in Sweden now, with her coven.”

“You’re the eldest of seven?” Julie questions, surprised. “I didn’t think you had any siblings.”

“I have many,” Hecate says. “Indeed, I have two others who I’ve never met. My mother remarried, when she went back to Greece. When I took up Headship of the Family Hardbroom, my mother and I only contacted each other sparingly. I’ve not seen her in over twenty years.”

“Oh, that’s- that’s sad,” Julie says. “Do you regret it?”

“Sometimes,” Hecate admits, looking to the table, scattered with papers, books, glasses and two empty bottles. “I see Zephyr and Eos the most, because they lived with me here, in Albion. My other siblings – Phoebe, Selene, Nereus, Hyperion and Erebus and Melpomene – I never see. Their children are different stories.”

“You’re an aunt,” Julie says happily. “I wish I was an aunt, but Moe swore off children.”

Hecate snorts. “I sometimes wish my siblings did as such, but no. Their children are all menaces who gather their allowance each summer to travel around Europe in a group, searching out their aunts and uncles when they aren’t terrorising the magical population. Last year, luckily, one of the eldest settled down with his husband and their first son and he usually was the one taking them off-course, supposedly.”

“What does _that_ mean?” Julie questions, fascinated. “Did they take a detour to France or something?”

“They aren’t allowed in France, anymore,” Hecate replies with a grimace. “The majority are teenagers. I believe the youngest allowed to go on the Summer Flight is nine. I believe they’re nine, at least. It’s hard to keep track of them. At last count, I had over thirty different young relatives. They’re a rather large coven, together – the Children of the Summer Flight.”

“Do they look like you?”

“Some of them,” Hecate says. Her free hand reaches for her watch, where last years group picture sits inside, her nieces and nephews all smiling and waving at the camera. It doesn’t occur to her that she could show it to Julie until the moment she could have has passed, Julie reaching out to flatten back a flyaway hair. Abruptly, the atmosphere changes and Hecate wonders about how Julie feels – if that wanting in her chest is only superficial, a creation of drunken happenings.

“What do you look like with your hair down?” Julie asks, “Can I see?”

“You may,” Hecate struggles for a moment, before she lets her magic do the work, bun unravelling and then the plait it’s formed from falling out. Julie leans back slightly, taking her in, letting go of her hand to run her own through Hecate’s hand. Nails scratch lightly against her scalp and the _sensation_ – it’s both fabulous and strange. She shudders slightly, blinking slowly. Julie moves her hair in front of her shoulders, turning her parting into something other than the monstrosity it had fallen into.

“You’re beautiful, you know,” Julie says quietly. Honestly. “Hair up or down. This is different, though not really _you_.”

“Like Mildred and her braids,” Hecate replies distantly, staring at Julie. She wonders what it would be like to have reciprocal romantic feelings. Logic tells her it would be a bad idea – especially if it meant eventually introducing Mildred to the Children of the Summer Flight. _Or maybe it wouldn’t,_ Hecate thinks, thoughts straying down an entirely new path. _What if she became my apprentice? I could feasibly introduce them, that way and then she would spend three weeks in the summer immersed in magical culture, among witches and wizards of all ages._

“What are you thinking about?” Julie asks, fondness coating her voice. She smiles softly at her and Hecate wonders again about romance and… _togetherness._ “How is my girl, anyway?”

“Enjoying school,” Hecate says. “She’s fascinated by our new teacher, Miss Gimlett. Magical religions are a new concept to her.”

“I looked those up, after I saw them in the orientation packet,” Julie says, arms slipping down to rest casually in the juncture between Hecate’s shoulders and neck. “Very fascinating. Miss Cackle’s always very eager to loan me books from the school library. The new teacher – Mildred says she’s a Hinduist, but the magical version.”

“Indeed,” Hecate says, before she takes a leap of faith, hands hesitantly rising to brush against Julie’s elbows. _Reciprocal affection,_ she thinks, planning it out in her head, wanting to know what could happen. She enjoys Julie’s company – her willingness to learn about magic is invigorating and there’s something about teaching adults that Hecate enjoys, with the exception of when Julie’s personal beliefs knocks heads with Hecate’s knowledge. It’s why she likes teaching who can still be moulded and taught the foundations of magic.

At her movement, Julie’s eyes flicker down. Hecate watches her unblinkingly, before listening carefully as Julie next speaks.

“Hecate,” she says, as if the conversation isn’t intimate enough.

“Julie,” Hecate says in return.

“Hecate,” Julie brushes a thumb over the back of her neck, leaving behind a patch of skin that tingles with warmth. Hecate can feel her magic bursting up from her core, wanting to ensnare this woman who has so quickly fascinated her. “Do you…do you like women? Witches? Romantically, I mean.”

“I always have,” Hecate says. “You?”

“Both,” Julie says, laughing nervously, leaning forwards to press their heads together briefly, noses brushing. “I’ve not wooed someone in years. Last girlfriend I had fucked off back to Scotland the week after we broke up. Mildred really, really liked her. ‘Nessa couldn’t even be bothered to stay until her work contract finished.”

“If things don’t work out,” Hecate begins carefully, “I hope we can remain friends. At the very least. I’ve been in a romantic relationship with Ada, before and we’re best friends, presently.”

Julie unexpectedly laughs. “Really? You and Miss Cackle? Now- now _that_ , I can see, _oh._ You’re both so comfortable around each other.”

“We were together for five years, before we decided to become simply friends, once more,” Hecate says. “Being in a coven together is enough for us. In the magical world, sometimes being family is enough. We have the girls at the school and we have our colleagues. Coven-bonds bind people together in ways you…ways you unfortunately won’t ever understand, not really.”

“I live on the edge of this magical world,” Julie says, before pressing their lips together. Hecate doesn’t expect it and stiffens, but Julie doesn’t move – or do anything, not until she starts to move away. “Did I read us wrong?” she asks, hesitant and ashamed.

“…no,” Hecate eventually says. “I- I am just not one for- for contact. I wasn’t expecting that, either.”

“Oh. So, what does that mean, ‘contact’?” Julie asks. “Because I know people in the gay community with ace flags and I always get mixed answers, when I ask.”

Hecate doesn’t know what Julie is talking about, but endeavours to answer her question as briskly and as quickly as possible. “I don’t have sex,” she says shortly. “And I only kiss _sometimes._ ”

“Kisses are welcome?” Julie tries to gauge her willingness.

“Yes,” Hecate nods after a moment of thought. “I’ll say if it’s not appreciated. My apologies. I know I’m not what you might expect.”

“You’re a witch,” Julie smiles, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I don’t know _what_ to expect.”

“Somewhat,” Hecate tilts her head, hands dropping to her lap. A feeling of relief spreads through her that makes something new swell in her breast – something concerning Julie Hubble. “Ada likes physical contact with her loved ones. She’s a very sense-oriented witch. I was unable to fulfil that need and everything drifted into casual territory within a few years of our official relationship. It was no hardship for us to part in that manner. We love each other, but we’re just friends.”

“I wish I had that with someone, when I was on my own with Mildred,” Julie mutters. “I had my mum and my sister, but- but sometimes someone on the outside is better.”

“I agree,” Hecate nods, before reaching up to cup Julie’s cheeks gently, drawing them together. Their lips brush, eyes closing. Julie tastes like gin and her lips are dry, but Hecate…Hecate could get used to it, she thinks. When they part, Julie’s eyes are dark and it takes Hecate a moment to realise why, but Julie doesn’t ask her for anything, simply runs her hands through Hecate’s hair and then draws her into a hug, tucking her chin into her shoulder.

“To a fortuitous relationship,” Julie whispers in a faux-haughty accent. Hecate shakes her head, smiling slightly. “Are you laughing at my accent?” she continues in the funny voice, Hecate drawing back to show off her smile. “Are you _smiling?_ Are you making fun of my voice?”

“I am,” Hecate says merrily, laughing out loud before feeling a tiredness in her bones. “It’s late, however and I have work in the morning.”

“I don’t have to get up until noon, so I’m set,” Julie grins, voice back to normal. “Are you transferring back to Cackle’s or flying?”

“Flying,” Hecate says, wincing. “Though, maybe I will transfer instead.”

“Is it dangerous for you to transfer while you’re this tired?” Julie questions, the few moments of silence afterwards answering Julie’s question. “Right, yeah, you’re staying overnight. Sleepover time. I think I have some pyjamas that could fit you, though they might be a little short on the leg.”

“Oh!” Hecate blinks at the offer, “You- you would offer me your guest room?”

Something about Julie’s expression tells Hecate that was the wrong thing to say, but Julie seems to brush it off after a second. “It’s either with me in the double or on the couch,” she says. _There is no guest bedroom,_ is what she doesn’t say out loud.

 _Perhaps not too small then, not for two,_ Hecate remembers thinking when she first entered Julie Hubble’s apartment. “The couch is comfortable, but I do not believe they’re for sleeping on.”

“Bed, then – c’mon, sleepy-head,” Julie stands, hands slipping from Hecate’s shoulders, one reaching out to take Hecate’s wrist. Hecate twists her fingers around Julie’s wrist in turn, letting herself be led up out of her chair, to Julie’s bedroom, to where a double bed with pale grey sheets with white cartoon clouds awaits. “What time do you want to be up, tomorrow? I’ll set an alarm-”

“I have it on hand,” Hecate says, flicking her hand. Magic settles around the bed, only for her ears, to awake her at seven am. Julie’s eyes zoom in on the headboard briefly, before she looks away, not reacting to what she _must_ know is magic. “I’ve set an alarm for myself.”

“Wait- you mean, right now?” Julie does a backstep, blinking. She looks at the headboard again, considering. “Huh. Right. Well, then – how do you feel about stripes?”


	12. Chapter 12

“We’re…courting. _Dating_ , like your mother said, but…courting.” Hecate struggles to put it into words. Mildred sits beside her on the bed, still looking a little shocked from the mirror-call she’d had with her mother. “We’ve decided to… _give it a_ _go_.” Her words echo those of Julie’s from before and she hopes Mildred hears it.

“You- you and my mum, though,” Mildred says, frowning, eyebrows knitting together. “You said you weren’t together last fortnight.”

“Things change. I’ve been teaching your mother about magic and we have spent a lot of time together recently. She knows things about me that I don’t usually tell people,” Hecate says.

Mildred glances at her and there’s the beginnings of a glare, “Like what?”

“Things like my family,” Hecate takes her watch off from around her neck, heart pounding as she opens it, holding it gently within her hands as she reveals the picture inside the lid with a touch of magic. Mildred peers closely, nose nearly touching the watch as her breath fogs up the glass. “Don’t tell anyone. My reputation as a witch with a heart of ice would be shattered. I love them all very much, even if I mix up their names, on occasion.”

“They…they’re _all_ your family? But there’s _loads_ of kids, there!”

“I’m the eldest of seven, originally – nine, after my mother died and my other mother moved on. This conversation isn’t about them, though,” Hecate shuts the watch, placing it around her neck once more. Mildred’s eyes follow it, briefly, before she looks to her hands, playing with the material of her jeans – her ‘weekend clothes’, as she calls them. Though Hecate would prefer the girls to wear their school uniforms, mostly, she’s technically not allowed to tell them off for it during their free time. “I would appreciate your advice, however, if you’re willing to give it.”

“Advise about what?” Mildred questions.

“Where to take her for tea, what sort of gifts she prefers,” Hecate lists a few things, hoping Mildred would get the idea. She’s not disappointed.

“Flowers! Mum _loves_ flowers, but she’s allergic to roses and lilies. She likes chocolate, too, but sometimes she’d rather have mints.” Mildred babbles, bouncing slightly, “You should take her to Nana’s shop – Hubble-Bubble Tearoom, it does _great_ soup and sandwiches!”

“Thank-you for the advice,” Hecate says, even though she is not _quite_ ready to meet Julie’s only living parent. _Later_ , she swears to herself, if they get that far. All at once she doubts herself. _Does Julie want me, really? Or does she just want a witch, a puzzle to solve?_ “Now, as your teacher, I believe it’s my prerogative to ask whether you’ve completed my essay for class tomorrow.”

Mildred – to her slight surprise – nods quickly, face serious. “Yes, Miss Hardbroom. I’ve done two drafts and I’m halfway through writing my final essay.”

“…very good,” Hecate says, impressed. Standing from the bed, she glances around the room, which is a little messy. She’d noticed the uniforms that had been strewn across Mildred’s desk-chair and bed railings, her half-empty backpack lying on the floor under the window with a half-circle of books and a pillow. _Organised chaos,_ she thinks, deciding not to mention it unless Mildred’s uniform is overly creased tomorrow. “I expect your best effort each time, Mildred. I look forwards to seeing your essay.”

“It’ll be really good,” Mildred promises, sitting up straight. “I swear.”

Hecate’s lip twitches. “Don’t. If you’ve truly worked on it, you don’t need to.” Last word said, Hecate transfers to Ada’s office, her friend barely glancing away from her maglet as Hecate sits down on the opposing armchair.

“I heard an interesting rumour,” Ada starts, munching on a shortbread, before clarifying. “It wasn’t about you.”

“Good,” Hecate mutters, slightly piqued at the reminder of Felicity’s gossiping. Pouring herself some tea from Ada’s teapot, she adds her usual two sugars and milk, waiting patiently for Ada to finish her biscuit. She’s just taking a sip of her tea, when Ada finally speaks.

“Apparently, Julie Hubble is now courting Pippa Pentangle.”

Hecate splutters, choking on her tea, coughing as it sticks in her throat. Face hot, Hecate looks to Ada, who has raised an eyebrow at her reaction.

“Something wrong, Hecate?”

“She’s not courting Pippa,” Hecate denies, appalled, “Pippa is married, for one, very happily I might add.”

“And you’re the one courting Julie,” Ada teases cheerily. Hecate nods sharply, rankled by this new rumour. Ada stares at her. “Hecate,” she starts, smile disappearing. “ _Are_ you courting Julie Hubble?”

Hecate summons a handkerchief, dabbing her face and dress, where she’d spilled her tea. Her gut twists and she doesn’t want to answer Ada, however she does, anyway. Nodding, confirming it with a quiet _yes_ , Hecate looks to her friend for approval. Ada leans back in her armchair thoughtfully, setting her maglet to the side.

“Mistress Hubble is the mag-net’s new favourite potion ingredient,” Ada surmises. “I want to know everything, Hecate. What do you like about her?”

“She’s curious,” Hecate immediately replies, “and invested in the things and people she cares about. I first visited her because I was concerned over Mildred’s thirteenth birthday.”

“Oh!” Ada gasps, immediately becoming concerned, “Of course, that could have been a _disaster._ Mildred is growing up to be a powerful young witch, as well.”

“I’m aware. I told Julie as such and when I offered to ward her, Julie refused on the grounds that she knew nothing of what I would be doing. I’ve been visiting her most evenings for tutoring in magic.”

“I did wonder where you were going.”

“We have dinner together, often,” Hecate adds, “and we drink, sometimes. I’ve been able to come up with several plausible theories on how the Founding Stone draws magic away from the older Hubble’s.”

“And?” Ada queries, clearly interested.

“Over time,” Hecate answers simply. “They are still magical beings and the slow draining of their magic is a life-long effect. Julie has exhibited several signs of recognising magic subconsciously and inebriation doesn’t affect her capabilities for longer than a witch’s usual. However, there is enough of her magic drained that the usual situations where coven-bonds would form don’t apply.”

“Very interesting, Hecate,” Ada nods, taking it all in. “And your relationship? When did that begin?”

“The day before yesterday.”

“…the day before yesterday,” Ada repeats. “A very recent step forwards. What of Mildred?”

“We informed her. She’s taking it rather well,” Hecate admits, reluctant.

“Are you prepared for the eventuality that you could become…” Ada trails off, but her question is clear.

“No,” Hecate answers honestly, “though is has occurred to me. To be quite honest, Ada, if our courtship doesn’t end up working out, I believe that Julie and I could remain acquaintances. Mildred’s reaction is what worries me. She seemed perfectly enthusiastic at the prospect of her mother being in a relationship, but what if her opinion shifts? Julie will put her daughter first and I wouldn’t want that to change; but I’m Mildred’s teacher. I don’t want that to affect our relationship as pupil and educator.”

“Mildred is unfortunately on the cusp of being a teenager,” Ada says sadly. “We all remember how we were when we were her age.”

“Idiotic. Naïve.”

“Uneducated,” Ada corrects, “our opinions changing every day. Personally, I believe you shouldn’t worry. Mildred is a good girl and she is surrounded by many people that she can talk to, you included. I believe that she idolises you.”

“She pretended to be me,” Hecate agrees, still recalling the performance with some degree of shock. Another subject of conversation occurs to her. “Ada,” she starts, “have you heard of something called …‘ _autism’_?”

Ada pauses, blinking, “I…I may have. The magical medicinal community has been adopting several non-magic terms into their vocabulary, in recent years. Autism, yes – an unusual personality and behaviour state, I believe. Why, my friend?”

 _Unusual personality and behaviour state,_ Hecate thinks, liking the magical descriptive better than Julie’s non-magic one. “Julie said that Mildred is autistic, that she has this _autism._ It was why she mimicked me so easily, last term and why she always wears her hair in those two lopsided braids of hers.” Hecate reaches for her watch, clutching it tightly. “Julie questioned whether _I_ had this…”

“Syndrome?” Ada offers.

“…yes,” Hecate pauses. “Do you believe it’s possible?”

“Do _you_ think it’s possible?” Ada turns the question back on Hecate. Instead of answering the question – her _own_ question – Hecate sips her tea, refusing to speak. Ada goes to speak, but a knock comes from the office door. Hecate reaches out with her magic automatically, tasting the presence outside.

“Students,” Hecate murmurs, setting her tea down as Ada opens the door with nary more than a flick of her fingers.

Blue hair pops into view, a shock of colour in the browns, golds and soft reds of Ada’s office. Hecate bristles very slightly, still not over the fact that Cackle’s very own Head Girl, Jasmine Henbane, had seen fit to not only _bet_ on her hair colour, but _lose_ said bet – and to a _wizard_ , at that. The teen twists into the room, waving her armless elbow.

“HB, Cackle-meister.”

Ada grins. “Jasmine.”

“I’ve got _news_ ,” she says, all sing-song and smiles. Jasmine bounds forwards, leaning on HB’s armchair. “Okay, so there’s me, Johanna Rhinestone and Caleigh McLeod. One of us got an apprenticeship with _the_ Miss McGonagall, one of us got into the Sorceress’ Establishment of Runic Magic and one of us got into Weirdsister – guess who.”

“You were accepted into the Establishment,” Hecate immediately says. “Miss Cackle helped you with your application.”

“Yes, she did and _thank-you,_ ” Jasmine gushes, “I don’t think I would have gotten in without you. I’m on a conditional – I have to pass my final Witches Code assessment here at the Academy and obviously get an A on my dissertation, but you’ve already said that the half-finished draft is B-worthy, HB, so I think I’m good.”

“Did Johanna get the apprenticeship?” Ada inquires, Hecate’s head twitching slightly towards the door, aware of the other student yet to enter the office in her magical periphery. _I don’t recognise their signature – a first year? A second year just turned thirteen? But no, it’s too old, too…too much alike to Mildred Hubble’s magic to be a coincidence._

“Mmm, yeah,” Jasmine says. “She’s happy enough, though I think she’s disappointed she wasn’t accepted by Miss McGonagall’s wife, instead. I don’t know why – Miss McGonagall is _just_ as good at her Craft as Miss Freetree.”

“Indeed,” Hecate intones, before transferring the other student inside, going still as she recognises Esmerelda Hallow. _Of course. Mildred Hubble’s magic – **Hubble** magic. Esme took that into herself to save young Sybil; and in retrospect, it makes perfect sense for Jasmine Henbane and Esmerelda Hallow to be together._ “Miss Hallow, what were you… _lingering_ about Miss Cackle’s office for?”

Jasmine and Esmerelda exchange a glance, after Esme has shaken off the shock of her surprise transferring.

“Miss Hardbroom, I..” Esmerelda swallows, obviously nervous. Her hair is down, so _unlike_ herself and her mundane clothes are splattered with paint. Her magic is different and it makes sense that _she_ , too, is different. But Hecate has seen this girl grow – she can see how she’s still not settled in her own skin after eight months without magic and then the gift of _new_ magic, magic that swirls about her, turning the paint on her arms different colours and curling and straightening a single lock of hair over and over.

“Speak, Esme,” Ada says softly, “there’s no judgement, here. Were you with Jasmine?”

“I was.” Esmerelda states quietly, hand twisting and finding Jasmine’s single one, who squeezes it tightly, raising it to her lips to kiss gently in comfort. “I’m not going to be ready for my fifth year exams, even with all the studying I’ve been doing. I’m sorry.”

 _Oh dear,_ Hecate thinks.

“Esme, why would you think you’re not ready?” Ada queries, “Haven’t your catch-up sessions with me been enough? I’ve been following your progress in classes – you’re doing quite well.”

“Quite well isn’t enough, Miss Cackle,” Esmerelda visibly struggles to keep her composure and Hecate looks away, trying to give her at least a _moment_ of peace. “Like Ethel says, I’m a Hallow. Mother is disappointed every time I tell her about things I’m having trouble with and Father keeps telling me to try harder and- and-”

Esmerelda breaks down into tears. Hecate sits in her seat, frozen as Jasmine offers immediate support, arms wrapping around her tightly as Ada stands, hand coming to rest on her back. Esmerelda’s head hides in Jasmine’s chest and her shoulder’s shake; it reminds Hecate too much of things she wants to forget, a numbed-over feeling of regret and loneliness swelling in her gut. Pressure from parents to be good at school is far from a strange concept to Hecate and still, she _still_ looks away as Esmerelda cries. No-one has ever come crying to her office – this is Ada’s territory. Hecate doesn’t know what to do. Maybe transfer away.

“She wanted to come ask if she could apprentice under HB,” Jasmine says, when Esmerelda is in the middle of her crying jag, at the point where she can’t stop even if she now wants to. Hecate, for a moment, doesn’t compute. The words travel through her brain and dissipate into nothingness instead of being properly registered.

“…what?” Hecate blinks in confusion, looking up. “Miss Hallow?”

Esmerelda pulls away only very slightly from Jasmine, gripping her girlfriend’s pleated teal blouse. She sniffles and wipes at her red face, looking so very young.

“During the summer or after the summer, please, I- I want to apprentice under you. Please. If you’ll have me,” she begs, stuttering and quite honestly, the first thing that floats through Hecate’s mind is the word, _teenagers._

Hecate stands, telling herself, _get yourself together_ as she summons a cool, damp handkerchief, handing it to the eldest Hallow child. Ada moves off to the side, somewhat, letting Hecate have space to stand in front of Esmerelda as she wipes her face.

“Ask me again, in accordance,” she instructs quietly. “Ask me again the _proper_ way. Wipe your face, catch your breath, then speak.”

Esmerelda draws in a huge lungful of air, dabbing at her face and flicking her wrist, magic swirling around her. The paint on her shirt disappears and her hair stops curling absentmindedly, the small fly-away hair around her scalp settling. Jasmine mumbles in her ear and she lets out the smallest of smiles, before pushing the Head Girl away. Jasmine stumbles over to Ada dramatically, leaning her armless elbow on Ada’s shoulder, shaking her head.

“They grow up so fast,” the young witch sighs, to Ada’s chuckle. Hecate glares at them both sharply before turning back to Esmerelda, a nervous bubbling taking over all other feelings she might be feeling in that moment.

Esmerelda takes a step back. Then, she bows, flourishing her hand in that polished, Hallow fashion, palm facing inwards.

“Well met, Hecate Hardbroom. I am the witch, Esmerelda Hallow and I come to ask for your guidance.”

“Well met, Esmerelda Hallow,” Hecate greets in turn, tilting her head and bringing the back of her hand to her forehead. “What guidance do you seek?”

“I seek guidance in the art of potion making.”

“Why do you seek _my_ guidance in this most prestigious art?” Hecate questions, hardly believing that this is happening. For years, she had wondered – had _dreamed_ of taking an apprentice – and for some reason, never had she realised she would have so little warning.

“I seek your guidance because I’m lost, Miss Hardbroom,” Esmerelda says and this is when her voice cracks, when desperation reaches through and the reality that she is a _teenager_ breaks through a childhood of conditioning. “The past year has been the most horrifying and wonderful year of my life. I’ve had no magic and now I have new magic. They say you’re so powerful and I’ve _seen_ it, seen it with my own eyes – and you care, I know you do. You care for all your students and you’ve always been quick to praise those who do well. I want to do better than well, than _quite well._ I want- I- I seek your guidance because-”

She stops. She takes a breath. Then, she finishes.

“I seek your guidance because I believe you can make me a better version of myself and because you care for the future of witchkind – and I’m part of that future. My most gracious thanks for hearing me, Hecate Hardbroom.”

Esmerelda bows again, palm to her forehead and Hecate can’t help the twitch of her lips at the missed spot of paint on the edge of her wrist. Behind her, Jasmine looks ecstatic and is already punching the air, practically jumping on the spot.

“Esmerelda Hallow,” she says in her _most_ austere voice as Esmerelda stands straight, but Hecate still has a faint smile on her face and that spark of hope in Esmerelda’s eyes makes it deepen. “Traditionally, a witch would give her potential apprentice their answer on the next nearest Holiday and that, for us, would be Ostara. However, you have spent four and a half years at Cackle’s Academy. I have no need to research you; no need to interview your teachers, family and friends; no need to judge your character based on biased sources.”

“Miss Hardbroom?” Esmerelda starts, questioning and unsure.

“You may call me Hecate when Ostara begins. Your apprenticeship will be finalised during the exam period and should anyone try to stop it, I will turn whomever the culprit is into a balloon. I’m sure the Great Wizard shall be eager to make sure another does not go through the same torment,” Hecate says and Esmerelda has to wipe her eyes again. “Keep the handkerchief,” she advises.

“Thank-you, Miss Hardbroom,” Esmerelda says and Hecate reaches out her hand, gently – hesitantly -- stroking her shoulder, hoping she won’t do a Hubble and wrap her in some constrictive hug without warning, as she has often imagined Mildred might, some day. But Esmerelda just reaches up to touch Hecate’s wrist ever so briefly and it’s only the smallest bit perfect.

Her magic sparks and then-

A trickle of emotions twist through her arm, made up from the spot Esmerelda touched. Hecate takes a moment to identify the sensations, feeling unadulterated joy and a clawing pain. _A mentor bond,_ she thinks in surprise, wondering if Esmerelda feels it, too. _If she doesn’t,_ Hecate continues, making a mental list of things to teach Esmerelda about if she’s unaware, _then I will tell her._

_I will tell her everything._


End file.
